The soldier's story of his captivity at Andersonville, Belle Isle, and other rebel prisons

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THE

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SOLDIER'S STORY

(Saptivitg at |ittd^v^0ttv}lk, §^lk §^U,

AND OTHER REBEL PRISONS.

By warren lee GOSS,

OF THE SECOND MASSACHUSETTS REGIMENT OF HEAVY AETILLEBT.

|Uttstrat«ir bg i;ijomas '§mt

BOSTON:

1867.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by

WARR EN LEE GOSS,

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.

JAN. 20, 1848

STEREOTYPED AT THE

BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUND ET,

No. 4 Spring Lane.

If the cause for which so many sacrifices
were made — which so many died in prison to
perpetuate — was worth suffering for, are not
the scenes through which they passed worthy of
commemoration and remembrance in the hearts
of their .fellow-countrymen ? Justice to the
living who suffered, impartial history, and the
martyred dead, demand a full, unexaggerated
record by a survivor of these horrors. For this
purpose this book, through agonizing memories,
at last has been finished. With the author it
has been rather a work of solemn duty than
of pleasure. He simply states facts, and depicts
those scenes of prison life best fitted to convey
to the minds of general readers some of its

(3)

PREFACE.

characteristic phases, just as prisoners saw it, —
giving to history material for its verdict, and
the reader a full understanding of the subject.

In almost every household throughout the
land there are saddened memories of these
dreadful prisons; but as terrible as has been the
past, thous.ands of the same patriotic men are
ready to spring to arms again for the preserva-
tion of national life and honor. On his crutch,
the author makes his bow to the public, hoping
that in The Soldier's Story they may find
instruction and profit.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

Enlistment in the Engineer Corps. — A Prophecy of Dining in Rich-
mond fulfilled differently from Expectations. — Battle at Savage's
Station. — Terrible Conflict. — The Army of the Potomac saved.

— An Incident. — Heroism in a Wounded Soldier. — A Retreat. —
Wounded taken Prisoners. — First Treatment as a Prisoner. —
Rebel Prediction of the Capture of Washington. — Confidence in
McClellan. — Stonewall Jackson. — False Promises. — Taken to
Richmond. — A Sad Scene. — A Rebel Officer's Wit. — A Retort.

— Search and Confiscation of Personal Efl'ects. — Description of
Prison. — Life in Libby Prison. — Horrors of such Life. — Va-
rious Incidents. — Change of Quai-ters. — Hope for the Better
disappointed Page 17

CHAPTER II.

Belle Island. — Sickness and Insensibility. — Want of Medical
Treatment. — Description of Belle Isle Prison. — Strict Regula-
tions evaded. — Trading with the Rebels. — Insufficiency of Food.

— High Prices of Commissary Stores. — Depreciated and Coun-
terfeit Currency. — Comparative Virtue and Intelligence of Rebels
of different States. — Extreme Suffering from Hunger. — Effects
on the Character. — Philosophy on the Subject. — A Goose Ques-

6 CONTENTS.

tion. — Exchange on the Brain. — Increased Mortality. — A Gleam
of Hope. — Exchange and Disappointment. — Escape and its Pun-
ishment. — A Rebel Admission that Richmond might have been
captured by McClellan. — More Prisoners and Suffering. — Ex-
change. — Sight of the Old Flag 32

CHAPTER III.

Parole Camp. — Discharge. — Return Home. — Restoration to Health,
— ReSnlistment. — Plymouth, N. C, Description of, and its De-
fences. — A Skirmish with the Enemy. — Assault and Surrender
of a Garrison. — Raid of the Rebel Ram Albemarle. — Capture
of Plymouth and its Garrisons. — Again a Prisoner. — An Heroic
Woman. — Disparity of Forces. — Large Rebel Loss. — An Ex-
change of Hats. — Pretended Union Men become Rebels. — Negro
Soldiers hunted and shot. — Similar Treatment by Rebels to North
Carolina Soldiers. — Journey South. — The Women curious to see
the " Yank" Prisoners. — " Dipping " by Women. — Unattractive
Damsels. — Trading Disposition. — Depreciated Currency. — Tar-
boro'. — Railroad Travel in crowded Cars. — False Hopes of
Exchange. — Proposed Attempt to escape. — Delusions in Regard
to Prison Life. — Wilmington. — Charleston. — Sympathy' of Irish
and German Women. — EtTects of Shot and Shell. — Rebel Strat-
egy. — Macon, Ga. — Arrival at Andersonville. — Acquaintance
with Captain Wirz. — Impressions of the New Prison. . . 53

CHAPTER IV.

Prison-Life in Andersonville. — Twelve Thousand Prisoners. — A
Shelter constructed. — Philosophizing in Misery. — Want of Fuel
and Shelter. — Expedients for Tents. — The Ration System. — Con-
tinued Decrease of Amount. — Modes of Cooking. — Amusement
from Misery. — "Flankers," or Thieves. — New Companions. —
A Queer Character. — Knowledge of Tunnelling acquired. — A
novel Method of Escape. — Mode of Tunnelling. — The Dead
Line. — Inhumanity and Brutality in shooting Prisoners. — Pre-

CONTENTS. 7

mium on such Acts. — Lack of Sanitary Regulations. — Sickness
and Deatli very prevalent. — Loathsome Forms of Scurvy. — A nox-
ious Swamp, and its Effects. — Untold Misery. — Large Accession
of Prisoners. — Exposure to heavy Rains and hot Suns. — One
Thousand Three Hundred and Eighty Deaths in one Week. — De-
pression of Spirits, Insensibility, Insanity, and Idiocy. — Tendency
to Stoicism. — More Pliilosophizing. — Human Sympathies a Cause
of Sickness and Death. — Pliilosophy again. — Sad Cases of Death
from Starvation 74

CHAPTER V.

Prison Vocabulary. — Punishment of Larcenies. — Scenes of Vio-
lence. — Destitution provocative of Troubles. — Short Rations.

— More Fights. — Advantages of Strength of Body and Mind. —
New Standards of Merit. — Ingenuity profitable. — Development
of Faculties. — New Trades and Ivinds of Business. — Cures for
all Ills and Diseases. — Trading to get more Food. — Burden oi
Bad Habits. — Experience in Trade. — Stock in Trade eaten up
by Partner. — A Shrewd Dealer destroys the Business. — Trading
Exchange. — Excitement in the Issue of Rations. — A Starving Man
killed. — His Murderer let off easy through Bribery. — Consider-
able Money in the Camp. — Tricks upon Rebel Traders in Prison.

— Counterfeit or Altered Money disposed of. . . . . . . 101

CHAPTER VI.

Rations decreased, and worse in Quality. — Crowded Condition of
the Prison. — Heavy Rains and Increased Sickness. — Much Filth '
and Misery. — Hunger a Demoralizer. — Plots exposed for Extra
Rations. — Difficulties of Tunnelling. — A Breath of Outside Air '
and New Life. — An Escape under Pretext of getting Wood. —
Captured by Bloodhounds after a Short Flight. — Something learned
by the Adventure. — A Successful Escape believed to be possible.

— Prcpai'ations for one. — Maps and Plans made. — A New Tun-
nelling Operation from a Well. — The Tunnel a Success. — The

8 CONTENTS.

Outer Opening near a Rebel Camp Fire. — Escape of a Party of
Twenty. — Division into Smaller Parties. — Plans of Travel. —
Bloodhounds on the Path. — The Scent lost in the Water. — Va-
rious Adventures. — Short of Provisions. — Killing of a Heifer. —
Aided by a Negro. — Bloodhounds again. — Temporary Escape. —
Fight with the Bloodhounds. — Recapture. — Attempted Strategy.
— The Pay for catching Prisoners. — Reception by Wirz. — Im-
provement by the Expedition. — Some of the Party never heard
from. — Notoriety by the Flight 115

CHAPTER VII.

Increase of Prisoners, generally destitute. — Greater Suffering from
no previous Preparation. — Sad Cases of Deaths. — Rations growing
worse. — Bad Cooking and Mixtures of Food. — Almost untold
Misery. — Dying amid Filth and Wretchedness. — Preparing Bod-
ies for Burial. — Horrible and Disgusting Scenes. — Increased
Mortality. — Rebel Surgeons alarmed for their own Safety. — San-
itary Measures undertaken. — Soon abandoned. — Scanty Supply
of Medicines. — Advantages of a Shower-bath. — Gathering up the
Dead. — Strategy to get outside the Prison as Stretcher-bearers. —
Betrayal by supposed Spies. — Horrors at tlie Prison Gate in the
Distribution of Medicines. — The Sick and Dying crowded and
trampled upon. — Hundreds died uncared for. — Brutality in car-
rying away the Dead. — The same Carts used for the Dead Boches
and in carrying Food to the Prison 136

CHAPTER VIII.

Robberies in Prison. — Means taken to punish such Acts. — A Char-
acter. — Big Peter, a Canadian. — His Administration of Justice
on Offenders. — Becomes a Ruling Power. — Missing Men and
Rebel Vengeance. — Murders of Prisoners by Thieves. — A Police
Force organized. — Courts established. — Trials of accused Mur-
derers.— Conviction and Execution. — The Gang of Murderers,
Thieves, and Bounty Jumpers broken up. — A Slight Tribute to

CONTENTS. 9

Wirz, as only the Tool of Others. — Character of the Prison
Police. — Not all Good Effects. — A Terror to the Good as- well
as Bad. — Sometimes the Instruments of Rebels 150

CHAPTER IX.

yegro Prisoners. — Barbarous Amputations. — None but the Wounded
made Prisoners. — Their cleanly Habits. — Treatment. — Major
Bogle. — Bad Treatment of him as an Officer of Negro Troops. —
A Misunderstanding. — Andersonville a Prison for Privates, and
not Officers. — A great Project to break from Prison. — Two Thou-
sand engaged in it. — Tlie Project betrayed when nearly com-
pleted.— Despondency at the Eesult. — Courage renewed pror-
identially. — Addition to the Stockade. — Much short Comfort from
the Enlargement. — A new Stock of Fuel soon exhausted. — Dis-
honorable Offers to Prisoners generally spurned by starving Men. —
Fidelity under extraordinary Circumstances. — Instances cited. —
H-i-oic Men. — New Methods of Operation. — These also spurned.

— Various Evidences of Devotion to Country 159

CHAPTER X.

Exchange on the Brain. — Rumors of Sherman's Movements. — Great
Expectations and sad Results. — Fearful Mortality. — Hot Sun and
powerful Rains. — Stockade swept away. — A Spring of pure
Water. — A new Tunnelling Operation nearly fatal to its Projectors.

— Rebel Aid for once welcomed. — Construction of rude Barracks.

— Prospects of Winter in Prison not encouraging. — Weary,
miserable Days. — Increased Sickness and Mortality. — Names of
fifty deceased in the Writer's Company. — Contrast of Loyal Blacks
with Disloyal Wliites. — Another Tunnelling Operation betrayed
for Tobacco. — The Betrayer punished. — Believed to be a Spy.

— Further Rumors of Exchange. — A Realization. — Great Joy.

— Dying Comrade when Release was ordered. — An affecting
Scene. — Delusive Hopes. — Departure from Andersonville. —
Short Rations. — Doubtful Deliverance. — Charleston again. — A

10 CONTENTS.

Talk with a Rebel Citizen. — Effects of the Siege on the City. -
Pity and Sympathy. — Shot and Shell a Civilizer. — The Fair
Grounds 173

CHAPTER XI.

Imprisonment on the Fair Ground. — Improved Condition. — Hard-
tack, and the Fear of losing it. — Tin Pail stolen. — Great Mis-
fortune. — Loss of Caste by it. — Ivindness of Women. — Ludicrous
Tumbling into Wells. — Gilmore's Morning Reports welcomed. —
The Dead Line again. — Continued large Mortality. — Want of
Hospital Accommodations. — Good Offices of Sisters of Charity. —
The Issue of Rations. — More Variety, but not of Quantity. — Ex-
pedients to obtain an Increase. — The Rebels baffled in Counting.

— Honorable Conduct of Colonel Iverson. — Scarcity of Wood. —
Sad Cases of Destitution. — Shocking Condition of the Writer. —
Effects of Scurvy. — Death while waiting for Food. . — Decreased
Rations. — Plans for Escape. — A Trial at it. — "Recaptured. — A
warm Fire. — Sent to the Workhouse. — Improvement on the
Camp. — Discovery of interesting Papers. — Sent back again to
Prison. — A new Partnership. — Rations getting worse. — Further
Attempts to bribe Prisoners to Disloyalty. — Starved and insane
Men consent. — A Speech and its good Effects. — The picturesque
Appearance of the Orator. — Yellow Fever. — Ludicrous Incidents.

— Leave Charleston. — Journey to Florence. — Another Attempt to
escape 189

CHAPTER XII.

Imprisonment at Florence. — An affecting Scene. — Inhumanity of
Rebel Authorities. — The Stockade similar to that at Andorsonville.

— Precautions against Tunnelling. — Disrespect of Rebels to their
Chief. — Poor Shelter. — Afterwards improved. — Suffering from
Cold. — Scanty Rations. — Woodcutters detailed. — Dreadful An-
noyance by Vermin. — Police organized under Big Peter. — The
Force perverted to bad Purposes. — Despondency at the Pros-

CONTEXTS. 11

pects. — Further Attempts to purchase Treason. — Despaii has its
Effects. — An Apology for the poor Fellows. — Their Hope of Es-
cape while in Rebel Service. — Some of them shot as Deserters. —
Sublime Heroism. — Colonel Iverson again. — A Brutal Under-
officer. — Good News. — The Arrival of Clotliing. — A scanty
Supply. — The Hospital flanked for a good Meal. — The Clouds
breaking. — More Food. — Statement of Colonel Iverson that Food
was limited by Orders. — Interest in Presidential Election. — Vote
by Prisoners. — Majority for Lincoln. 216

CHAPTER XIII.

Philosophy of Humor in Suffering. — Natural for Men to seek for
Sunlight. — Smiles and Tears. — Lightness of Heart. — Jesse L.
a Sample. — His comical Demeanor. — Jess as a Pair of Bellows.
— A queer Remark. — Dealing out Rations. — All Eyes on the
Meal-bag. — Squeezing the Haversack. — Eyes big with Hunger. —
Jesse's Tactics. — Raising the black Flag. — More Truth than Po-
etry.— Jack E. — Herbert Beckwith. — Jess cooking under Diffi-
culties.— Scurvy. — Combination of Disease, &c. — Torturing
Memories. — Character developed by Suffering. — Arthur H.
Smith. — A Break. — Death of Comrades. — A Political Creed. —
Escape by Bribery. — Coincidences. — Instances of them. — De-
cember, 1864. — A Call for Clerks. — Colonel Iverson's Sur-
prise 230

- CHAPTER XIV.

A New Life. — Plenty of Food. — Better Clothes and Treatment as
a Clerk. — Register of Dead made up for our Government. —
Large Mortality for the Number of Prisoners. — Many recorded
" Unknown." — New Supplies of Clothing. — Colonel Iverson af-
fected. — Fears from Better Diet. — Symptoms of Paralysis. — A
large Arrival of Letters. — Longings for Home revived. — Rebel
Adjutant Cheatham. — Georgia Troops. — Yankees employed on
the Register, for Want of Competent Rebels. — General Winder.

12 CONTENTS.

— His Dislike of Favors to Prisoners. — Unfeeling Remarks by
him. — All sent back to Prison but the Clerks. — Inhumanity to
Prisoners under him attributed to the Rebel Government. — An
attempted Palliation by Iverson that Rebel Prisoners were ill
treated. — Low Estimate of Yankees by Iverson. — Humor of
Adjutant Cheatham. — His Description of a South Carolina Drill.

— New Prisoners. — Orders to prepare for Exchange. — A Joyful
Day. — A Poor Comrade. — Sad Sights. — A little Strategy to get
off. — A Surprise, and Imprisonment ended. — Left Florence for
Charleston. — Awaiting the Subsiding of a Storm. — A Massachu-
setts Rebel. — Compassionate "Woman. — Under the "Old Flag"
again. — Arrival at Annapolis. — Once more at Home. . • 250

INTRODUCTION.

o>»=;c

The world's ear is full of cries from the land of rebel
barbarism, where starvation walked at the side of every
captive, and suffering, despair, and death sat at every
prison door. In these prisons thousands of patriotic
hearts ceased to beat during the war that has recently
closed. Torn with hunger and hapless despair, they
sadly and mournfully died during the long and bitter
imprisonments to which rebel cruelty subjected them.
Thousands of hearts have bled at the mere recital of
the horrors of Libby, Anderson ville, Florence, Dan-
ville, and Salisbury. And far lands, looking across
the ocean, have shuddered at the spectacle of rebel
barbarity, developed before their eyes, wondering how
in a Christian country such things could be. It is,
perhaps, an old story now ; but, as no detailed account
of any one of great experience has ever been presented
to the public by the sufferer himself, the writer of this
narrative proposes to tell what he has seen, and felt,

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14 ENTEODUCTION.

and known, of the slaveholders' mercy while yet the
touch of their fierce cruelty is upon him.

During the progress of the war, it has been my
misfortune to have been twice a prisoner, once in 1862,
and again in 1864, — the first period of captivity four
months, the second nine months, — making in all over
year of the most unparalleled misery which man e\'er
survived. My experience in these prisons was of a
kind which few endure and live. Mr. Kichardson,
the correspondent, Avho has done so much to enlighten
the public mind on this subject, by his own acknowledg-
ment, a great part of his time enjoyed the comparative
luxury of a hospital. Sergeant Kellogg, who has
written a very true account of his imprisonment at An-
dersonville, was a sergeant of a hundred men, and drew
extra rations ; and a good portion of his time was
also spent in hospitals of the prisons. Very hard fare
was his, it is true, but a luxury to what the great mass
of prisoners enjoyed. My imprisonment was without
mitigation of this kind, except the last three weeks of
my last confinement.

I propose to relate the tale of horrors experienced in
these prisons without exaggeration. All language which
my poor pen can command is powerless to convey even
a faint impression of what men suffered there. Very
few went through those imprisonments without becom-

INTRODUCTION. 15

ing idiotic — mere wrecks of humanity, unfit to convey
their impressions by reason of weakness of mind, and
unwiUing, even if they had the power, because of the
soul-harrowing, frightful memories which were thus re-
called. Therefore it is that the most terrible sufferings
have never been delineated, or even attempted. Though
it may be presumption in me to attempt it, yet I will
try to make the world acquainted with some of the
details of prison life and experience. I know how
hard it is to realize that men can live through some
of the cruelties which I shall relate ; but " truth is
stranger than fiction," and no truth is stranger than
"man's inhumanity to man," as developed in rebel
prisons.

THE SOLDIER'S STORY.

o^®io

CHAPTER I.

Enlistment in the Engineer Corps. — A Prophecy of Dining in Rich*
mend fulfilled different from Expectations. — Battle at Savage's
Station. — Ten-ible Conflict. — The Army of the Potomac saved.

— An Incident. — Heroism in a Wounded Soldier. — A Eetreat. —
Wounded taken Prisoners. — First Treatment as a Prisoner. —
Rebel Prediction of the Capture of Washington. — Confidence in
McClellan. — Stonewall Jackson. — False Promises. — Taken to
Richmond. — A Sad Scene. — A Rebel Oflacer's Wit. — A Retort.

— Search and Confiscation of Personal Effects. — Description of
Prison. — Life in Libby Prison. — Horrors of such Life. — Va-
rious Incidents. — Change of Quarters. — Hope for the Better
disappointed.

AT an early date in the war, I was a member of the
United States engineer corps of the regular
army, at that time consisting of one company, and
two others partially formed, all under Captain Duane,
for some time chief engineer of the army of the
Potomac. I performed the usual duties of an engineer
at Yorktown, at Williamsburg, and on the Chicka-
hominy, until, being in the first stages of a fever, I
was sent to Savage's Station, where I was taken pris-
oner. About two weeks previous to my being captured,

2 (17)

18 THE soldier's STORY.

I had written to my friends, that, in course of a week
or more, I ex2)ected to dine in Richmond. Though it
proved to be ?i prophecy, circumstances, in interpreting
the language, seemed to have taken me more at my
word than at my wish ; for it would have been more
congenial mth the wishes of the prophet to have
entered the "city of Ids hopes" in a very different
style than that which fate ordained.

On the 27th of June I arrived at Savage's Station,
the sound of battle on every side telling how desperate
was the nature of the contest. On the 28th and 29th,
the Williamsburg road, which passed the camp near
Savage's Station, was crowded with baggage wagons,
ammunition, pontoon trains, and all the indescribable
material of a vast army. The hospital camp at Savage's
Station consisted of three hundred hospital tents and
several negro shanties full of sick and wounded soldiers
from the battle-fields.

" There is an open plain of several hundred acres
opposite Savage's Station. It was along this plain
the Williamsburg road passes, by wliich our troops
M^ere mainly to effect their retreat," or change of base.
" Beyond the level plain was a dense pine forest." It
was here, on the edge of the road, that, on the after-
noon of the 29th, General Sumner was stationed with
twenty thousand men, who were to hold in clieck the
enemy until our troops had escaped beyond the White
Oak Swamp. " Here these men awaited, in one dark
mass, for hours, the approach of the trebly outnumber-

BATTLE AT SAVAGE's STATION. 19

ing foe, while regiments, divisions, and trains filed by
them. The fate of the army was in their hands, and
they proved worthy of the trust."

About five o'clock in the afternoon, dense clouds of
dust rising in the wood beyond heralded the approach
of the enemy. " As they drew near, from their whole
mass of artillery in front they opened a terrific fire, to
which our guns responded," until tlu-ough the dense
smoke was seen only the flash of artillery, like lightning
from the tempest cloud. Sometimes the roar of the
conflict would almost cease, but only to be renewed
with more terrible visior. " For an hour not a musket
was discharged, but the reverberating thunder of the
cannon shook the hills ; then the whole majestic mass
of rebels," with then' peculiar yell, in marked contrast
with the three distinct cheers of oiu' men, " sprang
forward upon the plain, presenting a crested billow of
glittering bayonets, which, it would seem, no mortal
power could withstand. Every musket in the Union
lines was brought into deliberate aim. For a moment,
there was a pause, until it was certain that every bullet
would fulfil its mission, and then a flash, followed by a
storm of lead, which covered the ground with dead and
dying." The three distinct cheers of our men responded
to the hyena-like yell of the rebels. Beaten back by
tliis storm of lead, the rebel host wavered, broke, and
retreated to the railroad. Troops coming up beliind
pressed them forward again to om' lines. "Again there
leaped from ten thousand guns the fiery blast, and yell

20 THE soldier's STORY.

answered yell ; for a moment a pause, to be suc-
ceeded by the instantaneous discharge of ten thousand
guns." And then, as if stung to frenzy, the rage of
the conflict was redoubled — the clash of arms inter-
rupted by the occasional arrival of reenforcements in
the field on the rebel side, who, as they came up,
cheered their companions with loud shouts.

The battle raged incessantly until half past eight or
.line o'clock, when cheer after cheer went up from our
nen, to which was heard no answering rebel yell, telling
that the army of the Potomac was saved. The rebels
brought into the field fifty thousand men, and were
beaten back by the gallant, devoted men under Sumner.

During the action, and afterwards, I was rendering
to the wounded such assistance as it was in my power
to contribute. At one time, while aiding a young sur-
geon (whose name I did not learn) who was ampu-
tating a limb, as I turned aside to obtain water for
his use, the surgeon and patient were both killed and
terribly mutilated by the explosion of a shell.

On the battle-field one sometimes hears sentiments
from the rough soldier which would do credit to the
most refined and chivalrous. At Savage's Station a
young soldier belonging, I think, to the fifteenth
Massachusetts regiment, was brought in wounded, had
his wound dressed, and lay with closed eyes, apparently
thinking. Presently he began to talk with me and
others. "I have been thinking," said he, "how proud
I shall be some day of these scars " (placing his hand

A VICTORY. 21

upon the dressing of the terrible sabre wound he had
received across the face). "How proud mj mother
will be of them ! " Suddenly the terrible discharge of
artillery brought him to his feet. "Where is my rifle?"
inquired he. " Surely," said one, " you will not go into
the fight wounded as you are ! " He turned his large,
intelligent eye upon the speaker, and, with an expres-
sion on his face I never can forget, in those low, sup-
pressed tones which men sometimes use when keeping
down or repressing excitement, said, while he buckled
on his war harness, "Look yonder 1 On the hill-side is
the flag of my brigade, and I never could forgive
myself if I neglected this chance to render service to
my country." He went, and my heart went with liim.
I saw him reach and mingle with his comrades in time
to take part in the conflict.

It was no wonder we were victorious, no wonder that
the rebel hosts were di'iven back, and that there came
no answering yell to the cheers of victory from the
Union army ; for our army was made up of patriotic
material — men who perilled life for their good govern-
ment — the material to wring victory from defeat !
Hence, too, it was, that our army, though retreating
and outnumbered, whipped the enemy in almost every
battle during the seven days' fighting which terminated
at Malvern Hill. After the battle of Savage's Station,
says the Rev. Mr. Marks, " General Sumner called for
reenforc(3ments to drive the enemy into the Chicka-
hominy, thus showing how complete was our victory."

22 THE soldier's story.

When this conflict was over, Avorn and exhausted
with sickness and my exertions, yet content in the con-
viction that the victory was ours, I wrapped myself in
my blanket and slept soundly, but awoke in the morn-
ing to find myself a prisoner. Our force had retreated
during the night, leaving the whole hospital camp at
Savage's Station prisoners in the hands of the enemy.
The first intimation was on finding a rebel guard around
the camp. During the three or four days we remained
here, the treatment experienced in the main was good,
although no attention was given us, such as providing
rations and medicines. Even our ice, of which there
was a meagre quantity for the wounded, was taken by
the rebel authorities, and sent to Richmond for the use
of the Confederate sick and wounded. The enemy
whom we came in contact with from the battle-fields, as
a general thing, treated us kindly, or rather let us
alone.

As an instance of coolness manifested by our wounded
at this time, I recollect one soldier desperately wounded
in the leg, who had taken up his abode under a large tree
near the station. He was as merry as a cricket, cracked
jokes, whistled, and sang, and whittled like a veii-
table Yankee, as he doubtless was. A Union surgeon
gave him some ice one day to put on liis wound to pie-
vent mortification, for the heat was intense. The poor
fellow eyed the ice, and commenced eating it, and at last
had eaten all except a small piece, when he began to
look first at his leg and then at the ice, as if doubtful

SENT TO RICHMOND. 23

whether to finish eating the ice or to use it to cool his
leg. He hesitated but a moment, and then said to him-
self, " G — d, I guess I'll eat it all and let it ' strike out.' "

Several correspondents of the Richmond press visited
us at Savage's Station. " Our army," said one of them to
me, casually, while taking notes, "will be in Washing-
ton in a few days." I could not refrain from answering
the boast, by saying, "Undoubtedly, but they will go
there as I shall go to Richmond soon." And such was
my confidence in McClellan at that time, that I fully
believed him to be manoeuvring to bag the whole rebel
army. The correspondent, after recommending me to
keep a civil tongue in my head, turned sneeringly away.

About the same time, a seedy-looking oflScer rode up,
whom I accosted with the question of how we were to
be sent into Richmond. "In ambulances," said he.
"That," said a rebel guard, as the officer rode away,
"is Jackson, our general." True enough, as I ascer-
tained afterwards, it was Stonewall Jackson, who
proved himself, in the few words of conversation I held
with him, to be as big a liar as the rest of the rebels I
had met ; for he must have known that the rebel
army were greatly deficient in the article for the use of
their wounded.

On the 5th July, we were packed into filthy cattle
cars, the sick and wounded crowded together, and sent
into Richmond. About twenty of our wounded are
said to have died dui'ing the passage of little over one
hour. Arriving at the depot in Richmond, we were

24 THE soldier's story.

formed in order around the canal, preparatory to march-
ing to prison. We were a hard-looking crowd, made
greatly so through suffering. The heat of the day was
such as to make the thinnest garment intolerable. Many
cast away their shirts and coats, and others their panta-
loons and shoes. "So many wounded and sick men in
the streets of the rebel capital, pale, bleeding, and in
some cases nearly naked, starting on their march for the
prison" — an imprisonment which, with the great ma-
jority, ended only with death — was calculated to excite
pity in the hardest heart.

Many were hopping on rude crutches ; others, with
amputated arms and shattered shoulders, moved as far
as possible from their staggering companions, and were
constantly pressed back into the surging mass by the
bayonets of the brutal guard. Several blind men were
guided by the arms of the wounded, who leaned upon
them for support. Others, confused and uncertain,
groped and staggered every step like the palsied.
"Here," says Kev. Mr. Marks, who was a witness of
the scene, "one, wounded in the leg, had thrown away
Ids torn and bloody pants, and was limping along with
nothing but liis crimson bandages ; another, wounded in
the chest and arm, had thrown off his blood-stiffened
shirt, and, with the upper portion of the body bare,
moved along in the crowd, leaning upon a less injured
companion."

Such was the crowd that left the depot and slowly
moved around the canal. One would think such a

CARY STREET PRISON. 25

Spectacle was calculated to excite pity, but in this case
it excited scoffs and derision. Even the children took
the tone of their elders, and one little fellow, about six
years of age, perched exultantly upon a gate, condensed
in the single sentence of, "We've got you, you d — d
Yankees you ! " a whole volume of rebel hate and
triumph. If we did not then believe om-selves to be
that description of a Yankee, we had occasion to change
our opinion when we arrived at our destination. On
our way an officer rode up to us, tinselled with gold lace
in a most extraordinary manner, — doubtless some of-
ficer of the home guard, — and sneermg, asked if that
was "Falstaff's army of recruits ! " "No," replied one
of the boys at my side, who understood the insult, " we
are not ; but here they come ; " pointing to a detach-
ment of dilapidated rebels coming around a corner
with the shuffling, unmilitary gait which is peculiar to
the Johnnies. The officer rode away without any more
attempts at wit.

In the mean time, the sidewalks were lined with
citizens who came to see the " Yanks," as they would
to the exhibition of some strange animal. A very few
exhibited any pity. A few women — mostly Irish or
German — gave us food at the risk of their lives. While
we halted before the prison, on Gary Street, the shades
of night had come over the city. Many of the sick and
wounded had fallen upon the pavements and sidewalks
from sheer exhaustion, i^fter remainino- two hours
before prison No. 2, on Gary Street, we were ordered

26 THE soldier's story.

in, and there went through with the ceremony of being
searched. Everything the chivalry took a fancy to
wag confiscated as contraband. Not even my jackknife
and comb escaped, and I found myself, after the search,
destitute of every thing but my blanket and the clothes
on my back.

The prison was one of the large tobacco warehouses,
thiee stories high ; the rooms were large, poorly
ventilated, and disgustingly filthy. The dust and
tobacco juice of years had gathered in hillocks and
ridges over the floor. These apartments were inde-
scribably foul. They had been filled with prisoners
who had but just been removed to make room for us,
and had left behind them all the offal of mortal mal-
adies, weakness, and wounds. There had been no
sweeping or cleaning, but into these rooms we were
forced, compelled to drink in the suffocating air, the
first breath of which caused one to shudder.

The room in which I, with about two hundred of my
companions, was placed, was too filthy for description.
Here, for five days, almost suffocating from Avant of
air, and crowded for room, I remained, having rations
issued to me only twice during the five days, and those
poor in quality, and insufficient in quantity for a sick
man. So with all the sick and wounded. No medical
attention was given, and the horror of our situation
seemed more than could be borne. To such a degree
were we crowded, that Ave were obliged to arrange our-
selves in tiers, like pins on paper, when we slept

LIBBY PRISON. 27

at night. And even with this precaution we were
crowded for sleeping-room. Constant interference of
some one's feet with another's head or shins caused
such continued wrangling as to make night and day-
more like an abode of fiends than one of human beings.

At last I was taken from this place, and sent to
Libby Prison, which has often been described ; and yet
from the description given, no adequate idea of the
sufferings endured can be formed. The filth and heat
were greater than even the place I had left. With
some five hundred others I was crowded into the garret,
next the roof, of the prison. The hot sun, beating
down upon the roof, made the filthy garret, crowded
with men clamorinof for standino;-room, suffocatino- in
a degree which one cannot well understand who never
experienced it. During the day, in the corners of our
garret the dead remained among the living, and from
these through all the rooms came the pestilent breath of
a charnel-house. The vermin swarmed in every crack
and crevice ; the floors had not been cleaned for years.
To consign men to such quarters was like signing their
death warrant. Two men were shot by the rebel guard
while trying to get breath at the windows.

The third day of my confinement in this abode of
torture, I noticed a young soldier dying : his long, fair
hair was matted in the indescribable liquid filth and
dirt which clotted and ran over the floor of the prison.
He was covered with vermin ; the flies had gathered on
his wasted hands, on his face, and in the sunken

28 THE soldier's story.

sockets of his eyes. But even in this condition hunger
had not left him. The scene seemed to fascinate me,
and in spite of the rejiulsiveness of the picture, I con-
tinued to look upon it, though it was, much against my
will. I saw him try to get to his mouth a dirty piece
of bread, which he held in his hand : the effort was in
vain ; the hand fell nerveless by his side ; a convulsive
shudder, and he was dead. After he had been dead half
an hour, his hand still clasped over the poor dirty piece
of bread, a Zouave who had one leg amputated, observ-
ing the bread, dragged himself through the filth and
dirt, and unclasj)ing the dead man's fingers, took the
bread from the rigid hand, and ate it like a famished
wolf.

Men lay on the filthy floor unable to help themselves,
gasping for breath, while their more healthy companions
trod upon and stumbled over them. The common
expression used was, " I shall die unless I get fresh
air." Every breath they breathed was loaded with the
poison of fever and the eflluvia of the dead. When
rations were issued, two thirds of the very sick got
nothing, for the manner of issuing was without order,
and the distribution was by a general scramble among
those who were the best able to wrangle for it. I was
fortunate in getting rations the first day in Libby, but
the second and third I got none. Meanwhile, my fever
-grew worse and worse ; oppressed for breath, crowded
for room, unable to get into the prison yard to perform
the common functions of nature, to which was added

LIBBY PRISON. 29

the want of medicines and even common food, made
my situation so horribly intolerable that I could only
hope for relief in death. All this was made worse by
the constant wrangling for room, for air, and food. I
succeeded in obtaining some pieces of board, by which
means I raised myself from the dirty floor and the
liquid filth around me.

I had been in Libby about a week, when an officer
passed tlu'ough the rooms, announcing that those who
were able to walk could be accommodated with quarters
in a healthy location on Belle Island. None of us had
heard of Belle Island as a prison at that time, and we were
eager to better our condition. Worse it did not seem
possible it could be, and we believed there would be
some truth even with rebels in dealing with men in our
situation. The chance of benefiting myself was irre-
sistible, and so I managed to crawl and stumble down
stairs into the streets. The breathinsr of fresh air once
more was refreshing ; but, trying to get into line, I
stumbled, and fell fixinting to the ground. I was
carried by some kind people into an Irishwoman's
shop, where I was treated to raspberry wine and baker's
bread. She asked me if I thought our army would
come into Kichmond. I answered her (believing it
true) , that I thought our army would have Richmond
in a week or two. " I hope they will," said she ; "for
this is a devilish place, and I Avish I was in New York."
I got into line after being persuaded by the bayonet of
the guard, and, being too weak to stand, fell down on

30 THE soldier's STORY.

the pavement. A rebel guard, addressing me, said, "I
guess you'd better not go down there, old boss ; Belle
Isle's a right smart hard place, and I reclcon you won't
any more'n live to get down thar any way." About the
time we commenced our line of march for Belle Isle, it
began to rain in torrents, drenching me through. I
should never have reached the prison camp alive, had
it not been for the kind assistance tendered me by the
rebel soldier who had previously addressed me as " old
boss."

We arrived at one of the long bridges which cross
the James River between Belle Isle and Richmond ;
after which I have a confused recollection of falling,
succeeded by a blank. I knew no more, vmtil I found
myself lying on the damp ground, with no shelter from
the driving rain, and hundreds of others around me in
the same situation. I have only a confused recollection
of what occurred for four or five days after my arrival,
when I inquired where I was. I was addressed as
"old crazy" by my companions, and told to keep still.
I afterwards learned that I had been delirious most of
the time for four or five days, during which I had
received no medical attention or care except the cold-
water cure of nature. This came in such copious
quantities as to remind one of what is related of
Charles Lamb, who, on being questioned concerning
the cold-water cure, replied that he never knew where
it had been tried on an extensive principle since the
deluge, when he believed it killed more than it cured.

LIBBY PRISON. 31

It was three weeks before I got a shelter, though there
were quite a number of tents on the Island ; and the
shelter which I became possessed of consisted of an old
striped bedtick ripped open, and set upon sticks, in
poor imitation of an A tent.

32 THE soldier's stoey.

CHAPTER ir.

Belle Island. — Sickness and Insensibility. — Want of Medical
Treatment. — Description of Belle Isle Prison. — Strict Regula-
tions evaded. — Trading with the Rebels. — Insufficiency of Food.
— High Prices of Commissary Stores. — Depreciated and Coun-
terfeit Cun'ency. — Comparative Virtue and Intelligence of Rebels
of different States. — Extreme SutFering from Hunger. — Effects
on the Character. — Philosophy on the Subject. — A Goose Ques-
tion. — Exchange on the Brain. — Increased Mortality. — A Gleam
of Hope. — Exchange and Disappointment. — Escape and its Pun-
ishment. — A Rebel Admission that Richmond might have been
captured by McClellan. — More Prisoners and Suffering. — Ex-
change. — Sight of the Old Flag.

BELLE ISLAKD is (situated on a bend of the James
River, about half a mile west of Richmond. The
river at this point is very swift of current, and full of
fantastic groups of rocks and little islands, covered mth
luxuriant foliage, among which the water dashes in
sparkling foam. Three bridges span the river between
the island and the city. The island contains some
forty or fifty superficial acres, rises at the lower ex-
tremity, towards Richmond, in a gentle, sandy plain,
and upon this was situated the prison camp, consisting
of about four acres of the lowest land on the James
River — almost on a level with the river, and conse-

BELLE ISLAND PRISON. 33

quently unhealthy. Beyond tlie prison grounds to the
westward the island rises into a precipitous blulF, there
crowned by strong earthworks, which commanded the
river above. The prison grounds were surrounded by
a low board railing, around which guards were sta-
tioned at intervals of fifteen paces.

The guard regulations on the island were very strict.
The rules established were, that there should be no con-
versation between the prisoners and the guard, and that
no prisoner was to come mthin three feet of the railing
or fence which enclosed the prison. But, in spite of
rules and regulations, the irresistible Yankee spirit of
trade and dicker perverted even the virtuous grayback
guardians of the prison. Trading over the line on the
sly was one of the professions, and all became more or
less expert at the business. As the guard had oixlers
to shoot or bayonet any one infringing these rules, the
business was sometimes risky, especially when a new
guard was put on who knew not the ways of those who
were before them, when some contrary Secesh was on
duty who did not care to learn, or some confiding indi-
vidual of the grayback species who had been cheated in
a sharp trading speculation.

The common way in opening negotiations for trade
with a new or ugly guard was to hold up, at a safe dis-
tance, some article of a tempting nature, — a jackknife,
watch, or a pan- of boots, — making signs that they
were to be purchased cheap, until the virtuous Secesh
broke the ice by inquiring the price. A lookout being
3

34 THE soldier's story.

established to give warning of the approach of the offi-
cers of the guard, trade would commence, and spread
from guard to guard, and sometimes beyond the guard
all alono" the line. In this manner a whole guard
would be seduced from virtue, and put to silence by
the fascination of high-top Yankee boots and pinchbeck
watches. The commodities of trade on the Yankee
side were articles of clothing which could ill be ajfforded,
bone rings of prison manufactui'e, watches, chains, and
jackknives ; the last-named being temptations agauist
which the most obdurate of Johnnies was not proof.
Even a commissioned officer would condescend to
chaffer and trade for a paii' of boots or a jackknife.
In return, we were the recipients of hoe-cake, wood
to cook with, apples, and sometimes potatoes and
tobacco. Occasionally officers from Richmond came
into the prison, and traded for clothing, and were not
too honest sometimes to walk off without paying for
their purchases.

I had been steadily getting up from the fever which
had prostrated me, the turning-point of wliich occun'ed
during my first week's experience at "Belle Isle," when
I gradually regained strength, though the food was so
insufficient and poor as to reduce the inmates of the
prison to an almost starving condition. I found by
personal experience and observation that, when hungry,
men will adopt very ungenteel habits to satisfy their
cravings, such as picking up bones rejected by others,
^nd gnawing them like dogs, struggling for stray

BELLE ISLE PEISON FARE. 35

potato peelings, in fact, anything of an eatable
nature.

I saw one day an Irish acquaintance who liacl pos-
sessed hunself of a bacon bone mth some meat on it,
but more maggots than meat. " What are you doing,
Jim ? " I interrogated. " Quarrelling with the mag-
gots," said Pat, with a comic leer, "to see who will
have the bone." Whereupon he brushed the maggots
oiF, contemptuously, and went in for a meal.

Our rations at this time consisted of one half loaf to
each man per day, and beans, cooked in water in which
bacon had been boiled for the guard, — usually contain-
ing about twenty per cent, of maggots, — owing to
scarcity of salt ; thirty per cent, of beans, and the
remainder in water. There may have been a very
small percentage of salt, but the fact was not ascer-
tainable by the sense of taste. Only through faith —
which coidd give no great flavor to the palate — could
one see its existence in the soup — for such was the
name with which this compound was dignified. It was
issued sometimes twice a week, and sometimes not at all.
The bread was of a very good quality, but so spongy
that our poor daily lialf loaf could be enclosed in the
half shut hand. The insufficiency of food was aggra-
•\ated by neglect of the prison authorities to issue
regularly ; sometmies we got no rations from Saturday
morning until Monday night. The excuse usually
given was, that the bakers in the city were on a drunk,
or that there were no blank requisitions, which excuses

36 THE soldiee's story.

didn't seem to fill our stomachs , and thongli thej had
to be taken in place of rations, we fomid them a poor
substitute. No " back rations " were ever issued.

The buildings of the commissary department were
just outside the prison limits, near the -water's edge, on
the south side. Here non-commissioned officers of the
prison, liaving charge of the issue of rations, were called
out, when the bread -was counted out to them and
brought in in blankets. The fact that these blankets
were infested ■\vdth vermin did not detract from the
tremendous cravings of appetite. At the commis-
sary's, molasses, pies, and sugar were kept for sale
at exorbitant rates — molasses, one dollar per pint,
sugar, one dollar and fifty cents per pound, onions,
twenty-five cents apiece, and every thing else pro-
portionally liigh. Butter and milk could rarely be
had at any price. Though not acknowledgmg any
superiority, at that time, of tbc value of greenbacks
over their shinplaster cun-ency, they much preferred
the former, in payment, to then* own. It was quite
noticeable that they showed a good deal of hesita-
tion in taking their own scrip. Their fractional cur-
rency consisted of bills issued by cities, towns, and
privata individuals. Petersburg money, or the frac-
tional currency of any other town, would not pass cur-
rent. On the sly, even at that date, rebel officers would
buy up greenbacks at the rate of three dollars for one.
Fellows in our condition developed some talents, which
under other circumstances, and among decent people,

TEADE WITH THE REBELS. 37

would have been considered dangerous. Two dollar
greenbacks were altered into twenties, ones into tens,
&c. Broken down banks of northern States were
passed by us, and received with grasping eagerness,
and even rebel shinplasters were changed into higher
denominations than they were ever intended to repre-
sent. Counterfeited brass was also worked up into
heavy gold chains by ing*enious Yankees. In fact,
eveiy means, however desperate, was resorted to, all
for the purpose of obtaining food. Except in some
very rare cases, we did not swindle the rebel guard,
whicli would have been for our disadvantage. But
woe to the unsuspecting citizen, who, in his greed of
gain, seduced the virtuous (?) graybacks to enable him
to trade over their post with the Yanks.

As soon as I obtained sufficient strength to walk
round, I entered into competition with others, and
after trading away my shoes and coat for food, set up
as a kind of commission merchant, for dealing in boots
and any other article of clothing of ti-ading value. By
this means, with perseverance I managed occasionally
to obtain an extra johnny-cake, a potato, or an onion.
I might have been seen at any time during the day
passing slowly around the guard line, trying to strike
up a trade for sometliing to eat. In passing thus around
the camp, I had a chance to become acquainted with
the disposition of the guard belonging to different
States. I found the Alabama and Georgia men to be
the most intelligent, while the rank and file belonging

38 THE soldier's story.

to Virginia regiments were the most ignorant and
vindictive. A common question proposed to me was,
" What do you'uns come down to fight we'uns for ? "
It was of no use to state facts, however impartial, or to
argue, for it would only bring a repetition of the same
question. They seemed to be oblivious of the fact that
the quarrel was commenced by themselves, and any
instructions volunteered by a Yank would be argued
by the angry thrust of the bayonet, which was too
powerful an argument to be met ; consequently the
Johnny considered himself a victor in all argument,
since where he failed in reason, he parried with the less
sentimental but more powerful argument of force,
which has always seemed to me to be the distinctive
method adopted by the two sections. It makes, in the
end, however, but little difference, as they have been
soundly beaten with their own favorite arguments of
force, which they applied indiscriminately to the heads
of our legislators before the war, and during its prog-
ress to prisoners of war and non-combatants.

During the last of July our sufferings were intense.
All other thouo;hts and feelinsjs had become concen-
trated in that of hunger. Even home was associated
only with the various descriptions of good food. John

H , a sergeant of the eighteenth Massachusetts,

used to answer my questions of how he was, with the
invariable expression, "Hungry as h — 11," which may
have been correct, as far as torment of that description
exists in the place mentioned. There were thi'ee stages

msurnciENCY of food. 39

of hunger in my experience ; first, the common hungry
craving one experiences after missing his dinner and
supper ; second, this passed away, and was succeeded
by headache and a gnawing at the stomach ; then
came weakness, trembling of the limbs, which, if not
relieved by food, was followed by death. Ordinarily we
received just enough- food to keep us hungry, which
may seem a doubtful expression to the general reader ;
but those who have been similarly circumstanced, who
read this, will recognize it as a truth. Men became,
under such surroundings, indiiFerent to almost every-
thing, except their own miseries, and found an excuse
in their sufferings for any violations of the ordinary
usages of humanity. An incident occurred illustrative
of this which came to my notice while I was trading
around the camp.

Near the dead line, on the west side of the camp,
were one or two wild-cherry trees, which formed the
only shade in the prison limits, and these not much, as,
from time to time, their branches had been cut off for
fuel, in spite of the vigilance of the guard, and the
necessity of shade for the prisoners. Here, one after-
noon, I found a German dying. No one was there to
care for him and soothe his dying moments ; the parched,
filthy ground was his death-bed ; over his wasted hands
and sunken face the flies were gathering, while the
disgusting sores of his flesh swarmed with maggots
and other vermin. Moved by such a spectacle, I sat
down by his side to brush the flies from his pallid face,

40 THE soldier's STORY:

and moisten the parched lips with water from my canteen.
Quite a number thereupon gathered around. One,
professing sympathy with so pitiable an object, sug-
gested that he would feel better to have his boots oiF,
and forthwith pulling them off, coolly walked away
with them, and sold them. I afterwards met and
recognized him, and expressed very freely my opinion
tliat he had been guilty of a detestable act, unworthy of
anything human. He confessed that it was rather
rough, but excused himself by saying he was hungry,
and thought it not so bad to steal from a dying man as
from one likely to live ; and he thought the boots would
do him more good than a dead man. There was some
show of reason in this, and so much effrontery that I
made no reply.

Different minds are no doubt affected in a different
degree by prison life, which in its best phase is simply
inhuman, unnatural. But whatever the mental con-
stitution, it must be influenced to a certain degree by
terrible sufferings, and deflected, as it were, from its
habitual angle. It is the calm, phlegmatic man of
philosopliical balance, who is best calculated to endure,
to look at the best side of every misfortune, and who
brings to his aid the reflection that every moment is
complete in itself, and adopts for his motto in all his
sufferinirs " Sufficient unto the moment is the evil there-
of." One who is naturally ill-tempered, under the
aggravations of imprisonment becomes an insupportable
monster. But if bad qualities are so forcibly developed

A RAID ON GEESE. 41

in some, the good also in others expands in the same
ratio. The generous carry liberality into improvi-
dence, while the charitable become self-sacrificing in
their bounty. Suffering develops real character ; dis-
guise throws off its mask under bodily and mental
anguish, unreservedly, and indeed unawares, and shows
the true character. Suffering is the crucible of human
metal, and pure indeed must be the gold which is not
tarnished or turned to dross by the heat of unmitigated
afflictions. Under the tortures of imprisonment, that
goodness must indeed be real which never forgets itself,
but stands firmly upon its pedestal to the last.

I was mixed up in some "right smart taU grass," as
the expression goes among the " rebs," on account of
the stealing of a Secesh goose. As the circumstances
are illustrative of the risks men were willing to run in
order to obtain food, although trivial I will relate them.
A squad of geese belonging to the Secesh officers were
often on parade just outside of prison limits, headed by
a gander who seemed to take some pride in the dis-
cipline and organization of his fellows — their drill and
marching being fully equal, if not superior to that of
their owners — the Secesh. The mouths of the pris-
oners often watered at the bare thought of a boiled
goose. One evening, about sundown, while the atten-
tion of the sentinel was occupied with trade, the unsus-
pecting geese were enticed under the guard railing with
corn, a dash was made, and a goose and gander were
captured. Their necks were wrung in a hurry. The

42 THE soldier's story.

cackling was drowned by some unusual noise furnished
for the purpose, and altho.ugh the guard mistrusted
" something was up," they did not find out the secret
untn next morning, when it was ascertained and partic-
ularly noticed that " goosy, goosy gander, no more
did wander," and Avas missed from his accustomed
haunts. Meanwhile, the goose had been eaten, with-
out salt or sauce, and relished immensely. I was
suspected of being concerned ; . but although many
inquiries and threats were made, the inquirers were no
wiser nor sounder on the " goose question " than before.
Our conscience did not trouble us, for had it not been
written, "Rebel property shall be confiscated."

The 1st of August developed a fearful epidemic in
prison, known as Exchange on the Bi*ain. The symp-
toms among those infected were, they were continually
rushing around camp, with the very latest news about
exchange, to the great neglect of their personal cleanli-
ness, and their skirmishing duties (a term usually
applied to the act of hunting for vermin, a partial hunt
being termed driving in the pickets) . The victims of
this epidemic were willing to bet on being exchanged
" to-morrow ; " their hopes were raised high during the
day, followed by a corresponding depression, on the
morrow, at being disappointed. With an anxious,
haggard look, inquiring of every one who would listen,
"What about exchange?" and, thus inquiring, Avould
before noon obtain information (?) which would raise
their expectations to a high pitch, to be followed by

EXCHANGE ON THE BRAEST. 43

despondency and discouragement, and sometimes death.
The best philosophy was neither to believe nor doubt,
but to wait patiently and hope much in a general
manner, without setting the heart upon any particular
time for its fulfilment.

The contemplation of misery teaches the necessity of
hope; cut off from comforts and tender sympathies,
from the daily intercourse with friends, from the habit-
ual avocations of life, — shut out from social pleasures,
doomed to mental and physical sufferings, to the leth-
argy of the heart, — he is lost, indeed, who loses hope.
But while preserving hope, we should not build expecta-
tions on frail foundations and in disappointments • lose
it. While some of the prisoners endeavored by all
sorts of ingenious stratagems to divert their minds from
ennui and the monotony and misery of captivity, others
gave up to sorrow, and pined away in the midst of
morbid reflections and dismal forebodino;s. Some
would lie for hours reading and re-readiug old letters,
which had perhaps been their companions in peril ; and
now, as they re-peruse them, were brought back slumber-
ing recollections of home. In the species of existence
which the prisoner leads, the memories of the past, the
kindly sympathies expressed in tender messages of the
dear ones far away in the sphere of real life, the affec-
tionate tokens which he carries with him warm from
the heart of unforgotten friends, — all these seem but
the echoes of familiar voices borne from another world.
They discourse to him pleasantly of departed joys, and

44 THE soldier's story.

past happy hours. There is a piteous consolation in it,
like the mournful solace of the remembrance of friends
who plant a dear grave Avith flowers.

Prisoners gather together in groups, as evening comes
on, to talk of home, and while away the tedium of the
hour by recalling the pleasure which once was theirs ;
the pleasures of the table were uppermost in their
thoughts ; the eager attention given when some favorite
dish was described in its minutest details, attested the
interest taken in everything eatable. Upon lying
down at night, the talk was of what we had eaten in
times past, and what we would have when we could get
it. -Suffering as we were from hunger, the sum total
of all joy seemed to be condensed in the one act of
eating. Some of the prisoners employed their moments
in making finger rings of bone, handkerchief slides,
napkin rings, watch seals, &c., many of which were
very fine, and were bought up by the,' Sesesh ' guard to
be sent home as specimens of " Yankee fixings, "as they
termed them.

Our fare daily grew worse, and new prisoners
coming in, the prison was crowded in such a manner
that it seemed impossible to get around. Deaths
increased in prison to such a degree that a load of
bread for the living was usually accompanied by a load
of coflfins for the dead. The cofiins were of rough
pine boards, the only decent thing provided for the
prisoners. Rumors of exchange, which flooded the
camp, were listened to only by a credulous few, the

A GLEAM OF HOPE. 45

thoughts of the majority being cast in that rigid mould
of philosophy which teaches us not so much to fly
from the evils that beset us, as to grapple with them
and trample them under foot — a system of ethics
which, however admirable, it is not easy to follow.

Suddenly a gleam of hope burst upon the wretched
camp of prisoners, and the horizon of prison life is
made bright by the certainty of exchange. Officers
cOttne into the prison and made the announcement, and
we all were excited with the joyful prospect of ex-
change. On this occasion of exchange, the rebels
prided themselves on the performance of what they
termed a " Yankee trick," in order to get all the men who
were not sick separated from those who were not able
to travel, and by this means they saved themselves much
trouble. All the men who could not march seven miles
were ordered to pass outside of prison bounds with their
blankets and canteens, haversacks, and such rations as
they might have on hand, intimating that such were to
be sent by some mode of conveyance to City Point to
be exchanged. There was a general rush to go out
with those who were thus designated. Many good stout
men, who might easily have marched twice the distance
required, desirous of getting home, scrambled for a
place among cripples and invalids. After lying all
night, waiting with the highest expectations, we awoke
in the morning to find that those who remained in camp
had been marched out for exchange ; and we were sent
back, after being kept in a broiling sun a large portion

40 THE soldier's STORY.

of the day. In common with the rest, I was disheart-
ened, and men wept like children at this bitter disap-
pointment. I had not, however, the reflection of re-
gret, wliich many had, who conld have marched the
required distance.

About half the camp had been exchanged, which in
one respect was beneficial to those remaining. We had
more room and better quarters. Though our accommo-
dations were better, and for the first time during my
imprisonment I had the pleasure of living under a
tent, the food became daily worse, less in quantity, and
poorer in quality. To make our wretchedness greater,
the rations intended for us were sold at the commissary's ;
and in this manner, for a time, about a third of the
men each day were cheated out of their food. The law
would not allow the Confederate commissary to take
greenbacks ; so he employed Yankee prisoners to sell
for him, and they became engaged in the transactions
of cheating and stealing from their more miserable
companions. Such men were generally despised by
their comrades for the crouching, cringing subservi-
ency with which they identified themselves with the
rebels, upholding and subscribing to their sentiments.

The nights and mornings now became cold, and men
who had disposed of their clothes during the warm-
est weather, sadly felt the need of them. SuflTering
from cold nights and during rainy weather, was severe,
and told terribly On the health of those who, unfortu-
nately, had given way to hunger, and sold their clothing

CRUELTIES PRACTISED 47

for food. It is hard, however, to determine whether
they would have suffered more to have been deprived
of the food thus obtained or from the deprivation of
garments. Death was ahnost certain to him who got
no food except that furnished by the prison authorities.

Thus affairs became so desperate that, though sur-
rounded by a vigilant guard, and on three sides with
water, men were continually trying to make their escape.
An Irishman, trying to escape, swam the river, evaded
the bullets by diving and good fortune, and reached
unhurt the opposite shore. There he was caught and
brought into the guard quarters near the prison, and a
double guard was established for his safe keeping. To
punish him for his attempt at escape, he was "bucked,"
when he let loose such a piece of his mind, and such a
rating with the unruly member, telling his tormentors
more truth than they cared to hear, that they gagged
him to keep him still. Thus they kept him in a burning
sun, until he bled at the mouth and fainted. As soon
as he recovered, the gag being removed, nothing
daunted, he again gave them a " bit of his mind." They
tried to make him clean their rusty guns, but he would
not ; and they resorted again to the torture. What
finally became of him I do not know ; but I heard the
rumor, of which I have but a little doubt, that he died
during the night from cruelty experienced at the hands
of his relentless enemies.

On the 1st of September, the guard, which had
consisted chiefly of Alabama and Georgia regiments,

48 THE soldier's story.

were sent away, and were relieved by citizens from
Richmond, many of them boys not over 'thirteen years
of age, who could hardly carry a musket. One of these
citizen soldiers one day ran a bayonet through a New
York boy, from the effects of which he died in a few
hours. A soldier of the Hawkins Zouaves sprang at the
guard, and, reaching over the railing, seized him by the
throat, lifted him from the ground, shook him until the
"rebel brave" was black in the face, then hui'led him
from him like a dog. The officer of the guard, coming
up at the time, was saluted with a brick, which knocked
him down. When inquiries were instituted, no infor-
mation was to be got inside the prison. No one knew
who threw the brick, or choked the guard ! I ever found
our foreign soldiers in prison among the most inveter-
ate haters of rebels, and unyielding as iron. During
the last of August and first of September, no less than
eight men were killed by the rebel guard.

Captain Montgomery at that time was in command
of the rebel post at Belle Island. In conversation with
him one day, he remarked that, after the battle of Fair
Oaks, our forces might have taken Richmond ; that
there was a panic among their troops, through appre-
hension of our following up the advantage gained dur-
ing the last day's fight ; and that the James River
bridges had been got ready to be destroyed by fire.
He seemed very inquisitive about public sentiment at
the North, and as to how long the North would fight.

Some two thousand prisoners were added to our

ESrCEEASE OF PRISONEKS. 49

number from Salisbury during September. They had
been much better fed than ourselves, and were much
dirtier, having been deprived of the advantages of
water, which we had from the river, and from little
shallow wells from five to eight feet deep, which we
dug all over the prison grounds. Several officers ac-
companied them, among whom was Colonel Corcoran,
►wdio, with other commissioned officers, was sent over to
Richmond. After this arrival of prisoners, we were
again crowded for room ; and the hopes of another ex-
change had almost died out, when our camp was flooded
with rumors of release by parole. Day after day passed.
Hunger-stricken and pinched with cold, these walking
spectres wandered around camp, gathering in groups to
talk of home and exchange.

About this time I got a Richmond paper, which ar-
gued that dirty people required less food than people
who were clean, instancing the Yankee prisoners of
Belle Isle as an illustration of the truth of the assump-
tion. Another paragraph announced that prisoners at
Belle Isle would be exchanged on the coming Tuesday.
Tuesday came, but no parole or exchange ! We waited
])atiently, in hopes that something might turn up to re-
lieve us ; but no relief came. It was so hard to wait,
even a few days, for relief from our condition, that the
uncertainty to which everything in rebeldom seemed
condemned was excruciating mental torment, added to
the physical misery endured. This jumbling together
of so much of hopeless mortality, this endless crash of
4

50 THE soldier's STORY.

matter and ceaseless shock of tortured humanity, is a
curse to the mind. Some were on the ''tip-toe" of ex-
pectation ; others, in their gloomy despondency, were
resigned to the desperate idea of making a winter of it
in ihis dreadful place, when a bow of promise appeared
upon the dark background of adversity .that over-
shadowed the prison, and a bright day of deliverance
dawned upon us.

The dark night of misery passed away, and I was
called out to write in paroling the prisoners. With
eager, trembling hand, I wrote first my own parole,
and then worked all night. There were some funny
descriptions accompanying the paroles — for instance,
red hair, blue eyes, and dark complexion. Before
morning the blanks of liberty were made out, and as
morning dawned, we all hurried out of prison, — a
motley crowd, ragged, dirty, and famine-stricken.

The sick took fresh courage, and under Freedom's
inspiration the lame walked, and rejoiced that their
term of captivity was ended ; that once again they were
to be under the protecting folds of Liberty's starry ban-
ner. Again we entered Richmond ; and, as we passed
through its streets, skeletons in form, from which almost
all semblance of humanity had fled under the torture
of imprisonment, we excited pity among even the vir-
ulent women of the capital. They filled our canteens
with water, and their kind faces showed that they were
not dead to all pity. This revulsion of feeling in our
favor since first passing through the rebel capital, was

THE OLI> FLAG AGAIN. 51

caused, perhaps, by their own sufFerings — the loss of
some father or brother. Be it as it may, I knoAv that
while the expressions of hate were few, the kindly
expressions were many in our behalf. Perhaps militaiy
restrictions were removed, which before had checked
expression, and the rebel authorities were willing we
should have some kindly remembrances upon our de-
parture from such scenes. The shops of the city had
mostly been closed, and one of the guard told me that
every house in Kichmond was either a prison or a hos-
pital. Though this may have been exaggeration, it
was no doubt a fact that all the dwellings of Richmond
had their spare rooms occupied by Confederate sick and
wounded. In this city the infantry guards were relieved,
and a cavalry escort furnished, who showed their confi-
dence in our desire to reach our lines by letting us
stragorle as we had a mind to.

During the day we marched without food, and
finally, late in the afternoon, a feeble cheer went up
from the advance, which told that the old flag on our
transports was in sight. Need I say how wildly our
hearts beat at sight of that dear old flag which we had
followed in battle, and which had floated among the
peaceful scenes of home ! The feeling was too deep
to be expressed in words or cheers. Tears of joy
started to eyes unused to weep at misery ; the voice
that attempted expression was lost in choking sobs.
Men sat quietly down, tears coursing their dirt-fur-
rowed cheeks, contented to look up and see the "old

52 THE soldier's story.

flag " floating over them. I sat in this manner, having,
without knowing it, a quiet, joyful cry, when a com-
rade came along, inquiring, " What are you blubbering
about, old fellow?" I looked up, and saw he hadn't
much to brag about, and replied, that I was crying
because folks were such fools as to live imder a flag
with three stripes, when they might have one with
thu'teen over them.

We hoisted anchor, left those scenes, and came, at
last, a sick, maimed, emaciated company, to Annapolis.
There kind hands cared for us, kind welcomes cheered
us, and we knew we were at home at last — at home with
the arms of a great nation around us, with the great
love of noble loyal hearts. When I left Belle Island
I had no hair or hat on my head, and my clothing con-
sisted only of a pau' of pantaloons and a shirt. Neither
hat, shoes, or jacket had I.

PLYMOUTH, NORTH CAROLINA. 53

CHAPTER III.

Parole Camp. — Discharge. — Return Home. — Restoration to Healtli.
— Reenlistment. — Plymouth, N. C. — Description of, and its De-
fences.— A Skirmish with the Enemy. — Assault and Surrender
of a Garrison. — Raid of the Rebel Ram Albemarle. — Capture
of Plymouth and its Garrisons. — Again a Prisoner. — A Heroic
"Woman. — Disparity of Forces. — Large Rebel Loss. — An Ex-
change of Hats. — Pretended Union Men become Rebels. — Negro
Soldiers hunted and shot. — Similar Treatment by Rebels to North
Carohna Soldiers. — Journey South. — The Women curious to see
the " Yank" Prisoners. — " Dipping " by Women. — Unattractive
Damsels. — Trading Disposition. — Depreciated Currency. — Tar-
boro'. — Railroad Travel in crowded Cars. — False Hopes of
Exchange. — Proposed Attempt to escape. — Delusions in Regard
to Prison Life. — Wilmington. — Charleston. — Sympathy of Irish
and German Women. — Efiects of Shot and Shell. — Rebel Strat-
egy. — Macon, Ga. — Arrival at Andersonville. — Acquaintance
with Captain Wirz. — Impressions of the New Prison.

THREE months followed in the parole camp, where
I regained strength ; and the hardships through
which I had passed seemed rather a distorted dream
than a dreadful reality. Does the mind lose the sharp
impressions of hardships, that it is inclined to look
upon the pleasures i-ather than upon the dangers and
disagreeable incidents of the past ? I will not tire the
reader with details of incidents which in a few months
ended in my discharge for disability, resulting from
injuries received in the line of duty.

54 THE soldier's story.

Once more I returned to my home, where its com-
forts and kind friends contributed to my restoration to
health. Possessed naturally of a strong constitution, I
recovered with almost marvellous quickness from disa-
bilities w4iich an able board of medical men had pro-
nounced incurable. With returning health came the
desire to be again with my companions in the field.
The clash of arms, the excitement of battle, the hurried
military parades and displays, awoke all the pleasurable
recollections, and there are many in the soldier's life.
Hardships suiFered were remembered only to revive my
hatred of the enemy who had caused them.

I secretly longed again to be in arms, and finally
joined company H, second Massachusetts heavy artil-
lery, upon its original formation at Readville. It is not
my purpose to give the common experiences of the field,
and therefore I omit the months that followed.

April, 1864, found at Plymouth, N. C, two com-
panies, H and G, of the second Massachusetts heavy ar-
tillery, garrisoning the forts and redoubts on the hostile
borders of a rebellious State. Plymouth is situated on
the Roanoke River, at the head of the Albemarle Sound.
This post was commanded by Brigadier-General Wes-
Bels, whose brigade consisted, besides the two comjjanies
mentioned, of the following regiments : sixteenth Con-
necticut, one hundred and first Pennsylvania, eighty-fifth
New York, a New York independent battery, twenty
men of the twelfth New York cavalry, a few negro
recruits, and two companies of loyal North Caro-

PLYMOUTH, NORTH CAEOLENA. 55

linians. Upon our arrival (which was in February,
1864), we found the phice in what a wag of our com-
pany termed a dilapidated condition. It was the mere
remnant of what had once Ijeen quite a thriving village.
The rebel forces and our own had had each a turn at
attempting to burn it, and thus the best buUt portion
of the town had been consumed. At the time men-
tioned, the town consisted of a few tumble-down
houses that had escaped the flames, two or three brick
stores and houses, and the rest a medley of negro
shanties, made of staves split from pitch-pine logs, in
which the surrounding country abounded, and a num-
ber of rude frame buildings, made for government use,
from material sawed at the steam mill which govern-
ment possessed by confiscation.

The place was a general rendezvous for fugitive
negroes, who came into our lines by famiHes, while
escaping from conscription or persecution, and for rebel
deserters, who had become lean, hungry, ragged, and
dissatisfied with fighting against the Union. Schools
had been established for the young and middle-aged
colored population, under the able tuition of Mrs. and
Miss Fi'eeman, of Milford, Mass. The whole place
had a Kip Van Winkle look, as though it had composed
itself into a long sleep to awake after the era of revolu-
tion and rebellion had passed. The forts protecting
this place were five in number. Extending along a
line of two miles were Fort Williams, covering the
centre of the town. Battery Worth, commanding the

56 THE soldier's stoey.

river above, Compiler and Coneby redoubts, com
manding the approaches of the left ; while ou the
right, standing out half a mile, unconnected with those
described, was Fort Wessels. Still farther to the right
was Fort Gray, standing alone, one mile and a half up
the river, on what is known as " War Neck," having no
communication with the works described except by a
foot-bridge consisting of single logs laid across a swamp,
or by a boat on the river. A little tug-boat, called the
Dolly, was continually plying between Fort Gray and
the town. A line of rifle-pits connected Fort Wil-
liams, Coneby and Compiler redoubts, with Battery
Worth.

On the morning of April 17, 1864, the consolidated
morning report to the adjutant-general gave eighteen
hundred men armed and equipped for duty. These
men were to guard and defend a line of nearly three
miles, where the difficulty of communication, and con-
sequent concentration of men at the point of attack,
was very great. The theory that a long line is a weak
line was here exemplified. One strong bastioned work,
with a good water battery connected by parallels, with
strong abatis work, would, with the same number of men,
have made the place much stronger, if not impregnable.
On the afternoon of the 17th, while on my way to Fort
Wessels, I met two drummer boys belonging to Fort
Grf y on their way to the commanding general, with the
information that the rebels were approaching in strong
force witliin two miles of Fort Gray. This alarm sent

ASSAULT ON PLYMOUTH. 57

me- back to Fort Williams, where I arrived just as the
enemy opened fire from the edge of the surrounding
woods. That evening a battery opened on Fort Gray,
followed by two charges of the rebel infantry, in which
the rebels were repulsed with heavy losses. Thereafter,
at that point of our line, they contented them-ielves by
skirmishing, and an occasional shot from their artillery.

On the afternoon of the 18th, our pickets, after dis-
puting every step of the way, were driven in, and the
rebel artillery, from their whole line in front, opened fire
upon Fort Williams and the town. We returned the
fire. The gunboats Miami and Smithfield did terrible
execution. The battle was raging fiercely, when, in
obedience to orders, I passed down through the town to
the river. The shot and shell shrieked through the
town, crushing through the walls and roofs of the
houses and shanties. On the side of the houses towards
the river were amusing groups of negro men, women,
and children, who had gathered in the rear of their frail
shanties, as if vainly hoping they might prove a protec-
tion against the iron messengers of death. They made
a preposterous noise, in which were mingled religious
exclamations, prayer and supplication, with shrieks and
lamentations.

I passed safely through the town, and getting up
steam on board the "Dolly," was fortunate enough to
get her, with rations, to Fort Gray, much in want of
supplies. A rebel battery, commanding the river, had
made it difficult and dangerous to make the attempt.

58 THE soldier's story.

1 was fortunate in escaping the attention of the rebel
battery, and arrived with the dead from Fort Gray.
That night Sergeant Evans and myself buried the
dead we had brought down. The rebels had been
repulsed all along the line, with the exception of Fort
Wessels, which, with a garrison of eighty men, had
twice repulsed the rebels, and had taken thirty prison-
ers, but at last had surrendered to overwhelming num-
bers, not, however, until a rebel battery had been
planted less than a hundred yards from them.

After the fight I visited my old quarters, but found
them knocked to pieces by shell and shot. I extricated
from the ruins two blankets, in which I rolled myself,
to sleep. This was about two o'clock in the morning.
In about an hour I was aroused by hearing a heavy
firing in the direction of Fort Gray. Rumors came
that a rebel ram was coming down the river. Without
firing a shot, — throwing from her smoke-stack huge
volumes of pitch-pine smoke, — she passed within a
few rods of Battery Worth, commanded by Lieutenant
Hoppin, who was ordered, some five minutes before she
hove in sight, to fire on the first tiling coming down the
river, as it would be the rebel ram. At this battery
was mounted a rifled gun, carrying a chilled end shot,
weighing two hundred pounds, — enough, one would
think, to blow the ram into the swamp on the opposite
side of the river. Yet not a shot was fired from this gun
until after she had passed below her, and sunk the Smith-
field, whose crew were killed, captured, or drowned,

A PRISONER AGAIN. 5 'J

while the Miami ran away. Captain Fkisher, com-
manding the gunboats, had hished the Miami and the
Smithfield together with heavy chains, hoping in this
way to detain the ram and sink her. While endeavoring
to throw a shell down the smoke-stack of the ram he was
killed.

From the time the rebel ram passed our batteries,
the loss of Plymouth was a foregone conclusion.
During the night the rebels had thrown a pontoon
bridge across the river on our left, and early the same
morning they carried, by assault, our redoubts on this
flank, which gave them the town in our rear, and soon
had sharpshooters in every house, picking off our
gunners. Such was our situation on the morning of
the 20th. There was no fighting at Fort Gray ; Fort
Williams alone returned a feeble fire upon the artillery
planted upon all sides of them. The outworks soon
surrendered, and Fort Williams sustained the conflict
alone. Though summoned to surrender, and threatened
with "no quarters " if we did not comply, we fought them
single-handed until afternoon, when again being sum-
moned, and our situation such that it was useless to
contend longer against overwhelming numbers, the
commanding General reluctantly surrendered, and I was
again a prisoner of war.

It is a pleasure to know that most of the men and
officers of the second behaved with gallantry, as also did
the other regiments in the field. The conduct of one
woman here deserves to be mentioned, — Margaret

60 THE soldier's STORY.

Leonard, — the wife of a private of Company H, second
Massachusetts heavy artillery. During the battle, she
was engaged making coffee for the men in a building
exposed to a heavy fire. At one time a solid shot
passed through the building, taking with it one of her
dresses, which hung on a nail by the wall Another
carried away the front legs of her cooking-stove. Yet
when the fight was over, on the evening of the 19th,
she had coffee for the men, and supper for the officers.
She was in Fort Williams during the remainder of the
fight, and subsequently went through with a long and
severe imprisonment at Andersonville, Macon, and
Castle Thunder, Kichmond.

During the fight, we had armed and equipped for
action eighteen hundred men. The rebels acknowl-
edged, in the Petersburg papers of the 27th, the loss of
seventeen hundred men, in killed and wounded, before
the defences of Plymouth ; thus paying very dear for
their bargain, on their own showing. When we sur-
rendered, our ammunition was gone, and our rations
nearly exhausted. In the face of these facts, and with
a full knowledge of them, a rebel captain boasted that
had the Confederates possessed the forts, the whole
Yankee nation couldn't have taken them. He probably
had forgotten Vicksburg and Port Hudson. The forces
at Plymouth surrendered only to overwhelming numbers.

We were marched out between two lines of rebel
infantry. As we passed along, the Secesh did us the
honor to swap hats with us, by taking them from our

SHOOTmG or negeo prisoners. 61

heads and substituting their own in their place. I lost
my tall dress hat, which had caught the eye of a reb,
on account of the ostrich plume which embelKshed it.
I would have preferred keeping it, as it had two very
ornamental bullet holes in the top, made by some com-
plimentary rebel sharpshooters during the action. Here
let me record the fact, that many of the pretended Union
men and women of the town were suddenly developed
into exultant Secesh, and shouted their defiance as we
passed through the place after our capture, — the same
who, a few days before, were glad to draw government
rations, and accept of like favors.

We were marched into the open field in front of
Plymouth, where we were strongly guarded for the
night. Here, also, had been driven from the town,
like so many cattle, the whole population of Plymouth,
except those known as Secesh. Little children at the
breast, — white, yellow, and black, — old women and
young, were all huddled together in an open field,
preparatory to — they knew not what. There were
about twenty negro soldiers at Plymouth, who fled to
the swamps when the capture of the place became cer-
tain ; these soldiers were hunted down and killed, while
those who surrendered in good faith were drawn up
in line, and shot down also like dogs. Every negro
found with United States equipments, or uniforms, Avas
(we were told by the rebel guard) shot without mercy.

The Buifaloes, as the North Carolina companies were
called, escaped in some cases by swimming the river

62 THE soldier's story.

before the final siirrender. On those who were not
thus fortunate, fell all the concentrated rage and hatred
of the rebels. Many of these Buffaloes had assumed
tlie garb and name of our dead artillerists, and in this
manner, in some instances, escaped detection and death.
On our way from Plymouth to Tarboro' I saw several
of our North Carolina men selected out as deserters,
and, without even the ceremony of a drum-head Coiirt-
martial, strung up to the limb of trees by the road-
side. We were closely guarded, but riot, as a general
thing, badly treated.

On the afternoon of the 21st we were rationed with
our captured "hard-tack" and pork, formed into line,
and sadly turning our faces from Pl^mnouth, where we
had left our unburied dead, were marched into the in-
terior. On the first day we marched about fifteen
miles, and on the next, without any issue of rations,
to Hamilton, where we were turned into a grove while
our captors awaited orders respecting our destination.
At Hamilton the citizen Secesh of the surrounding

o

country flocked to see the captured Yankees. They
were mostly women, who were curious specimens of the
feminine gender, — straight-skirted, without crinoline,
and invariably addressing us as "you'uns Yanks."
One of the unvarying inquiries among the women was,
" lias you'uns Yanks got any snuff"? " It was rumored
that we were to be exchanged for "Hoke's Bri'jad'^."
This rumor was doubtless for the piu"pose of keepuig us
(juiet and cheerfid, in order that we might be easy to
raanaffe.

SOUTHERN WOMEN. 63

On the 24tli we left Hamilton for Tarboro', which
place we reached about noon, and where we received
rations of raw meal, beans, and bacon. During the
day I traded my overcoat for a two-quart tin pail,
which my previous prison experience told me would be
as useful as anything I could possess. It came in early
demand, for that night we cooked mug^.. Many wry
faces were made at this fare, without salt ; yet, for
many weeks and months after, we were glad when we
got enough even of that. Here, also, the people from
the town and surrounding country flocked to see the
captured Yanks, bringing mth them articles to trade,
the women more anxious for snuff than even at Ham-
ilton. Some of them were quite well dressed ; but the
majority were uncrinoUned, and had a withered look
of premature age, noticeable among the middle-aged
and young women at the South ; induced, I have no
doubt, by the disgusting habit so prevalent there of
"dipping," as it is called. This is performed by dip-
ping the chewed end of a stick in snuif, and rubbing
it among their teeth and gums. This habit may be
accounted for from the fact that they have no useful
pursuits to occupy their minds.

Most of the men taken at Plymouth were well-dressed
and good-looking, and I overheard one of the young rebel
ladies (?) say that she thought some of the Yanks were
real "pootey," and enthusiastically declared she would
like to have one to keep. Whether she meant to have
one as a plaything and pet, or to keep as negroes are

64 THE soldier's story.

kept, I know not. But the keeping, I think, by powei
of attraction, would have been difficult, so destitute of
charms of person and conversation were most of the Se-
cesh damsels there congreoated. One of the sixteenth
Connecticut regiment, having a brass chain in imitation
of gold dollars linked together, traded it off as genuine,
realizing a hatful of Confederate scnp. The women
traded with us for biscuits of hoe-cake and corn, at
exorbitant prices, all anxious to get greenbacks in re-
turn, and generally seeming to shun their own currency,
especially the bills of their beloved Confederacy. They
were -willing to converse, if they were allowed to do
all the talking ; but were very indignant at some of
our boys, who persisted in calling their would-be nation
the Corn-fed-racy. All this dicker and talk and chaff
was carried on over the guard line. I traded off my
boots for shoes at this place, and got ten dollars " to
boot" in greenbacks, — all the money I had during an
imprisonment of ten months. Silver brought a big
premium. The common expression in exchange was,
"ten cents in silver, or ten dollars in Confederate
scrip ; " and at that rate the silver was eagerly seized
upon.

We marched through the streets of Tarboro', which
were thronged with boys, negroes, old men, and ill-
dressed women and cliildren. Some of the youngsters
wore rejected Confederate forage caps, of C. S. A.
make, much too big for them ; yet they seemed to con-
sider them a military covering, which, on that occasion,

TRAVEL SOUTH. 65

did them honor. Passing the post-office, one of our men
asked, jokingly, for a letter. The savage reply was,
that they had nothing but bullets for Yankees. Arriv-
ing at the depot, we were crammed into filthy box-cars,
while heavy guards were stationed on top and at the
entrance of the cars. Thus packed, sixty and seventy
to a car, we started, at a slow rate, forward to our desti-
nation, the engine throwing out dense volumes of pitch-
pine smoke, making our journey rather uncomfortable.
At noon we halted, to cook by the wayside, and again
my little pail came into requisition ; for, after using it
myself, it was lent to several other parties, who cooked
their mush in it. A great many were without cooking
utensils ; and having drawn nothing but raw rations,
were forced to go hungry, borrow, or eat their Indian
meal raw. Hunger will soon reduce one even to that
expedient, in order to satisfy its demands.

We observed, while oif the train, at different pointa
along the route, that the track Avas much worn, occa-
sionally replaced by rails of English manufacture. The
guard, doubtless acting under instructions, kept alive
the hopes of speedy exchange by relating fictitious con-
versations, which they pretended to have overheard
among the officers. This was well calculated to deceive
the majority, but it did not deceive me. I was on
the lookout for a convenient chance to escape, and was
soon favored with what appeared to be an " opening."
There was a hole in the side of the car in wliich I was
located, through which a man might possibly squeeze ;
5

66 THE soldier's stoey.

and a companion and myself determined, if we could
get possession of the place occupied by two of our com-
pany, to try and escape during the night, wliiie the
train was in motion, by jumping from the car. With
this idea we communicated our intentions to them,
thinking they would be generous enough to afford an
opportunity for our escape, if they did not wish to
escape themselves. But upon our making them confi-
dants of our intentions, they raised an outcry against
us, and threatened to inform the guards if we did not
desist. "We shall be shot by the guards if you es-
cape," said they. One of these men repented of his
folly after arriving in prison, and bitterly lamented that
he had not then availed himself of the chances of thnt
night. The general impression among our men at that
time was, if they kept quiet, and did not trouble the
rebels, their treatment, when we arrived in prison, would
be much improved. Although I informed them of the
manner in which prisoners were treated, they could not
be brought to believe it was so bad after all.

So liable are men to deceive themselves with false
hopes and expectations, that when the rebel guard
informed them that their destination was Anderson-
ville, a beautifully laid out camp, with luxuriant shade
trees filled with birds, and a running stream, in which
fish sported, they swallowed the whole story un-
doubtingly. So great was their confidence, that the
rebels might safely have dispensed with a guard for a
majority of the prisoners. Yet the vigilance of the

CURIOSITY OF THE PEOPLE. 67

guard was increased instead of relaxed, as we neared our
destination, so that escape became impossible.

All along the route, at every stopping place, men,
women, and children flocked to see us as to a show.
Even in the night, the " Southern heart " was encour-
aged by a sight of the captured Yankees. Tliey came
with "pitch-pine torches" to catch glimpses of the detest-
ed Yanks. One talkative boy at a station one evening
seemed very curious to see the Yanks, whom he had
been informed had horns ; but we told him we had
"hauled in our horns " considerably since our capture,
which accounted for their not beins: visible. The little
fellow said they used no lights in that part of the coun-
try, except pitch-pine ; they were rather smoky, he
acknowledged, but they would put up with that willing-
ly, "rather than not lick the Yankees." We had some
talk with an intelligent Lieutenant at the same place,
who acknowledged the worthlessness of their money,
but said they were going to fight it out upon the
resources of the country. The Confederacy, he said,
had a year's provisions on hand, and would fight as long
as their means lasted. " Well, then," said I, " you
might as well give up your cause, for M'lien your
resources fail you are conquered, while the resources
of the North are, if anything, more plentiful than
before the war. Every man you bring into the field is
taken from the producing powers of the country." At
that instant the officer of the guard came up, and forbid
further conversation with the "Yanks." Of course all

68 THE soldier's story.

conversations were carried on by us from the cars,
where we were caged.

On our arrival at Wilmington, we were halted at the
depot, and again were rationed with bacon and hard-
tack, three of the latter to a man. During our half
hour's stop at this place we set fire to a high stack of
cotton bales near us, which slowly burned, but did not
attract attention of our guard at the time. Feeling bound
to do all the injury we could in an enemy's country,
we were much gratified to learn, when we arrived at
Charleston, South Carolina, that " a large amount of
cotton had been destroyed, supposed to have been fired
by malicious Yankee prisoners, who passed through
the place en route for Andersonville." We crossed the
river at Wilmington, on board of a ferry-boat, halted at
Florence, South Carolina, the next day, and received
rations of Indian meal. That night we arrived in
Charleston, and were locked up in the work-house
yard. Next morning received rations of three hard-
tack per man, and a slice of bacon.

During the day we remained in the yard, bartering
and trading with all who came to see us. I gave a
man three dollars to get me some drawing paper. He
returned, after a few hours, with two pages of an old
ledger, one side of which had been written upon. I
was rather angry at such a return, when he said, "You
needn't flare up, old fellow, 'tis the best we'uns have."
I subsequently was informed that it was the best I
could have got had I gone for it myself. I wTote a

PASSING THROUGH CHARLESTON. 69

letter, and put on it a Confederate postage stamp, to
mail it for home. I was promised it should be sent, but
it never was received. We got bread at this place for
one dollar per loaf, United States greenbacks, but the
desire to speculate on our necessities raised it to three
dollars per loaf before we left the jail yard. The day-
was passed in talking and joking with such as came and
felt disposed to talk with the Yanks.

In the afternoon we were taken out of prison and
passed through the streets of Charleston, which we saw
for the first time by daylight. Women and children
crowded the streets, and showed us much sympathy in
various ways, by acts as well as words, the women fur-
nishing the prisoners with tobacco, cigars, and food, for
which they would accept no recompense whatever ;
these, however, were mostly Irish or German. But
through the whole of Charleston not a disrespectful or
unkind word was uttered in our hearing. Sympathy
with the Union cause, or possibly the constant firing
down the harbor, had a beneficial eifect upon the inhab-
itants, and in their conduct towards us. We halted on
our march through the town at a German cigar manu-
factory, where a fine-looking, keen-eyed young Ger-
man presented us with cigars and food, and a very
pretty young lady made a present of a bouquet to a good
looking young fellow of our number. Having some
paper with me, while seated on the pavement waiting
for orders I drew several hasty sketches, and presented
them to the people, thus leaving my card. Knowing

70 THE soldier's STORY.

a few words of German, I made known my wish to
escape. Quite a pleasant conversation was carried on
between the prisoners and the occupants of the side-
walks and houses.

On our way to the depot, we were taken through a
part of the town where the shell and shot of our guns
had done comparatively little injury, yet on every side
was evidence of the terrific eflTects of our guns. At one
place was a building destitute of a corner ; another h:id
a round hole punctured through the brick walls, where
the shot and shell had travelled. I guessed at the object
in thus taking us through that part of the town which
had suffered least, as having reference to our proba-
ble exchange at no very distant day. They wished us
to get a favorable opinion of the damage done to the
town by our shot and shell from the islands and
marshes. We were so kindly treated at Charleston
that we left the city with regret, and were again packed
on board of box-cars, preparatory to leaving for Ander-
sonville. The captain, commanding our guard while in
the city, was the son of the Irish patriot (?) Mitchel.
Before the cars started, an old German woman came
around inquiring for me ; and I have no doubt I missed
a good chance of escape in being forbidden by the
fifuard to talk with citizens.

The next day we arrived at INIacon, Georgia, where
we halted for a time. Macon had quite a prim. New
England look, unlike any southern village I had before
seen. It reminded me of Augusta, Maine.

AJSIDERSONVILLE. 71

The weather was rainy, drizzly, and suffocating
on the hist of our journey, and a gloom pervaded
our thoughts and feelings. During the whole day,
through anxiety, as we ncared our destination, scarcely
a word was spoken. We arrived at Andersonville about
four o'clock P. M. , May 1 , 1864. It was raining severely
when the train reached the place. Even then we did
not imagine to what kind of quarters we were to be
consigned. The guard answered our interrogations as
to where we were going to put up, by ironically point-
ing out some comfortable looking barracks as our hab-
itations.

Suddenly the whole scene changed ! A ferocious,
round-shouldered little man, mounted upon a bay mare,
surrounded by the guard who were to take the place
of those who had accompanied us on the cars, came
raving, swearing, and tearing round in a most extrava-
gant manner. So ridiculous appeared to us his ges-
tures, person, and looks, that we burst into a roar of
laughter ; whereupon he turned upon us, bristling with
rage, exclaiming, "By Got! you tam Yankees; you
won't laugh ven you gets into the pull pen." It was a
gratuitous prophecy, afterwards understood in all its
hoiTors ; and the threats of Captain Wirz had too
much significance in them to be laughed at. The
recollection, even now, of the light manner we received
so gross a monster, causes a shudder when I think what
action our laugh might have prompted him to. I was
selected out, on account of my sergeant's uniform,

72 THE soldier's stoey.

when, asking me if I could write, I was fm-nished with
paper, and told to take the names, regiment, and com-
pany of my car load of companions. When it was
done, the names of some thirty more were given me,
making in all ninety men, which was called "Detach-
ment 21-30." The other prisoners were similarly di-
vided, and placed under non-commissioned officers.

The new guard belonging to the station relieved the
old one, and we were marched a short distance, where
a curious-looking structure, fifteen feet high, loomed
up before us. Sentries were stationed on the top
of little platforms, scaffolded up near and at the
height of the enclosure. This was the " Stockndc,"
which was to become our future quarters. It was com-
posed of the trunks of pine trees, which were set ver-
tically into a trench, so close as to touch together, form-
insr a close fence. In this manner about fifteen acres
were fenced in. As we halted before the headquar-
ters of the prison, waiting, like so many drowning rats,
crouching in the rain, the guard, in answer to our ques-
tions as to what kind of a place it was inside the
stockade, replied, we would find out when we got in
there. They said prisoners tried to escape sometimes,
but the dogs always caught them. Never, to their
knowledge, had a man escaped, except one, and he was
drowned while trying to swim a pond to get clear of the
doo-s. This was a crusher to the idea I had formed that
the stockade might prove a good place for an escape.

As we waited, the great gates of the prison swung

DESPONDENCY AND GLOOM. 73

on their ponderous oaken hinges, and we were ushered
into what seemed to us Hades itself. Strange, skeleton
men, in tattered, faded blue, — and not much of blue
either, so obscured with dirt were their habiliments, —
gathered and crowded around us ; their faces were so
begrimed with pitch-pine smoke and dirt, that for a
while we could not discern whether they were negroes
or white men. They gathered and crowded around us
to ask the news, and inquire from Avhence we came ;
and in return we received the information that they had
mostly come from Belle Island, whence they were sent
the 1st of March. The air of the prison seemed putrid ;
offal and filth covered the ground ; and the hearts,
buoyed with expectation of good quarters, sank Avithin
them when they knew that no shelter Avas furnished
beyond what could be constructed of blankets or gar-
ments. All my former experience of prison life had
not prepared me for such unmitigated misery as met me
everywhere. Our poor felloAvs, avIio had so confidingly
believed in the humanity of rebels, were noAv depressed
by despondency and gloomy forebodings, destined to be
more than fulfilled. Of those of our company who that
day entered these prison gates, not one third passed be-
yond them again, except to their pitiful, hastily-made,
almost begrudged graves.

74 THE soldier's story.

CHAPTER IV.

Prison-Life in Andersonville. — Twelve Thousand Prisoners. — A
Shelter constructed. — Philosophizing in Misery. — Want of Fuel
and Shelter. — Expedients for Tents. — The Ration System. — Con-
tinued Decrease of Amount. — Modes of Cooking. — Amusement
from Misery. — "Flankers," or Thieves. — New Companions. —
A Queer Character. — Knowledge of Tunnelling acquired. — A
novel Method of Escape. — Mode of Tunnelling. — The Dead
Line. — Inhumanity and Brutality in shooting Prisoners. — Pre-
mium on such Acts. — Lack of Sanitary Regulations. — Sickness
and Death very prevalent. — Loathsome Forms of Scurvy. — A nox-
ious Swamp, and its Effects. — Untold Misery. — Large Accession
of Prisoners. — Exposure to heavy Rains and hot Suns. — One
Thousand Three Hundred and Eighty Deaths in one Week. — De-
pression of Spirits, Insensibility, Insanity, and Idiocy. — Tendency
to Stoicism. — More Philosophizing. — Human Sympathies a Cause
of Sickness and Death. — Philosophy again. — Sad Cases of Death
from Starvation.

ri^HE prison at Andersonville was situated on two bill-
J- sides, and through-^he centre ran a sluggish brook,
branch, as it was commonly termed. There were no
signs of vegetation in the pen — it had all been tram-
pled out. Our squads were ordered to take their posi-
tions near the hill-side, on the borders, and partially in a
murky slough or swamp. This was between the brook,
or branch, on the north side, and was used by the pris-
oners as a " sink,'' until it had become pestilent with

PRISON LIFE IN ANDERSON VILLE. 75

dreadful stench. Sadly tliinldng of home, and its
dreadful contrast here, that night we lay down in the
rain and dirt, on the filthy hill-side, to endeavor to get
rest. But when sleep visited us, it was with an accom-
paniment of horrid dreams and fancies, more than '
realised in the horrors of the future, and familiar now,
more or less, to the whole civilized world. With bur-
dened hearts we realized how hard was our position.
The first morning after our arrival about twenty pounds
of bacon and a buslicl of Indian meal was given me to
distribute among ninety men. We had no wood to
cook with, when two of my comrades, with myself,
succeeded in buying six or seven small pieces for two
dollars, and soon got some johnny-cake made. At our
coming into the stockade there were about ten thonsand
prisoners, increased to about twelve thousand by our
arrival. The next day three others with myself formed
a mess together; and taking two of our blankets, con-
structed a temporary shelter from sun and rain, and thus
settled down, experiencing the common life of hunger
and privations of prisoners. We soon became conver-
sant with the ways and means of the prison. There is
a certain flexibility of character in men that adapts
itself with readiness to their circumstances. This adapt-
ability to inevitable, unalterable fate, against which it
is useless to strive, or where it is death to repine, softens
much of the sufferings otherwise unendurable in such a
life. In no position is this adaptability more fruitful
of good results to its possessor than in prison. It en-

76 THE soldier's story.

ables the luckless prisoner to extract whatever of com-
fort there may be in the barren species of existence
which suri'ounds him, and mitigates the mental torments
and pains endured by those who are suddenly thrown
upon their own resources, amid the acutest Bufferings
which squahd misery can inflict. AVhile some pass their
time in useless repinings, others set themselves resolutely
at work, like Robinson Crusoe, to develop the resources
of their surroundings into all the comforts they can
force them to yield.

Originally the interior of the prison had been densely
wooded with pitch-pine, in which that countiy abounds ;
but at the time of our arrival it had been, with the ex-
ception of two trees, entirely cut to supply the want
of fuel demanded by the prisoners. The camp at that
time was dependent upon the roots and stumps of the
trees which had been cut down for fuel. A limited
number of those who were among the first arrivals
had constructed rude shelters of the branches of trees,
thatched with pitch-pines to shed the rain. The com-
mon shelter was, however, constructed with blankets,
old shirts, &c., while a great number had no shelter at
all, or burrowed for the want of one in the ground. An
aristocratic shelter, which few could indulge in, was
made of two blankets pinned together with wooden pegs,
stretched upon a ridgepole running across two uprights
stuck into the ground, in imitation of an A tent ; or two
poles were tied together, Avith both the ends stuck into
the ground, forming a semicircle. Over three of these

THE RATION SYSTEM. 77

a blanket was stretched. A hole was then dug two
or three feet deep under the space sheltered by the
blankets. These, as a rebel surgeon one day remarked,
were little better than graves. ^^^len there was a
sudden shower, as was often the case, these holes
M'ould as suddenly fill with water, situated as most
of them were on the side hill. All over camp men
might be seen crawling out of holes like half-drowned
kittens, wet, disconsolate, and crestfallen. Those who
could summon the philosoj)hy to laugh at the ludicrous
view of their troubles, would find but little comfort in
such uncomfortable cu'cumstances. These shelters were,
at best, but poor protection against rain or a tropical
sun ; but, as poor as they were, many who had blankets
could not, though surrounded by woods on the exterior
of the prison, get the necessary poles or branches to
construct them. Under such cu'cumstances the unlucky
prisoner burrowed in the earth, or laid exposed to the
fury of rain and sun, and often chilly nights and
mornings.

The organization in camp for the issue of rations
was as follows : The men were divided into squads of
ninety, over which one of their own sergeants was
placed. Over three nineties was also a chief sergeant,
who drew rations for the whole. Every twenty -four
hours these sergeants issued rations, whioh they drcAv
at the gate from the prison authorities. The sergeants
of nineties issued to sergeants of thirty or ten to suit
convenience, ancl facilitate the distribution of rations »

*-.r*'

78 THE soldier's story.

The rations Avere brought into camp by mule teams,
driven by negroes, or, more commonly, by prisonera
paroled and detailed for the purpose. A sergeant of
ninety men was entitled to an extra ration for his
trouble. I resigned, however, my position as sergeant
of ninety before I had held it twenty-four hours, as I
had foreseen that the position required a great deal of
work, and I did not believe in taking an extra ration,
which would not have benefited me. It was a task,
iiowever, which many among a multitude of hungry
mouths were ready to take upon themselves, and but
very few qualified to fill in an honorable, impartial
manner. When men are cut down to very low rations,
they are not always discriminating in attaching blame
to the proper source, which made the place all the moi^e
difficult to fill with credit. This I early foresaw,
and, therefore, left the position to some one anxious
to fill it.

During the first month of our imprisonment the
rations were better than at any subsequent period,
except wood, of which by chance we got none. Yet
even at this time the rations were miserably inadequate
to anything like a healthy organization. Our rations
per day, during the first month, were a little over a
pint of Indian meal, partly of cob ground with the
meal, which was made into mush, and which we called
by the appropriate name of chicken feed. Once in two
days we got about a teaspoonful of salt. At first,
bacon was issued in small quantities of fifteen to twenty

MODES OF COOKING. 79

pounds to ninety men, but, after the first of July, this
was dropped almost entirely from prison rations. Some-
times, instead of Indian meal, we got rice or beans ;
but each bean had had an occupant in the shape of a
grub or worm. Our modes of cooking were entirely
primitive. The meal was stirred into water, making
a thick dough ; then a little meal was sprinkled on the
bottom of a plate or half of a canteen, to keep the
dough from sticking. The dough was then placed in a
plate or canteen, which was set up at an angle of forty-
five degrees, to be cooked before a fire. When the
front of the cake was "done brown," the plate was
feed upon a split stick, and held over the coals until
it was baked or burned upon the bottom. Our meal
was sometimes sifted through a split half of a canteen,
in which holes had been punched with a sixpenny nail.
But even this coarse sieve left us so little of meal for
food, it was gradually abandoned as impracticable.
In sheer necessity of hunger, we sacrificed quality to
quantity.

It was an amusing scene, sometimes, when three or
four would group together to concoct a johnny-cake.
One split wood with a wedge or a jackknife, another
stirred up the meal, while a third got the fire ready.
The process of baking brought out the amusing feti-
tures of the group. One, on his hands and knees, acted
as a pair of bellows, blowing up the fire ; another held,
extended on a spHt stick, the johnny-cake, varying its
position to suit the blaze or coals ; while a tliird split

80 THE soldier's STORY.

Sticks, and fed the fire. In this manner, at certain
hours of the day, could be seen groups of men all
over the stockade, with anxiety painted on their fea-
tures, in pitch-pine smoke ; the fireman, on his hands
and knees, blowing until red in the face, tears running
down, making white furrows on his smoke-begrimed
features ; sweating, puflSng, blowing, coughing, crying,
and choking with smoke, especially when, as was often
the case, an unlucky gust of wind blew the smoke
down the fireman's throat.

I remember, at this time, the history of one day's
exertion in trying to get some food ready for my
hungry stomach, which is so illustrative of the diffi-
culty generally experienced, that I will relate it. I
opened the programme one morning by getting ready
to cook " mush." The wood consisted of some roots
which I had " extracted " from the ground the day
previous, and consequently was not very dry ; so, when
I was stirring the meal the fire would go out, and
while I was blowing the fire the tin pail would tip
over. I worked three or four hours in this way
without success, when I abandoned the task on account
of a rain coming up, putting the wood in my pockets
and hat to keep it dry. In the afternoon it cleared
away, when a comrade and myself, impelled to the
same purpose by a common hunger, went to work
jointly for our mush. But after nearly blowing the
breath out of our bodies, and getting the fire fairly
under way, the wood gave out, or, more properly,

A day's fast. 81

was burned out. And, while we were in pursuit of
more to finish our " scald " (for, with our most sanguine
hopes, we did not expect anything more than merely to
scald the meal), some one passing along stumbled, and
upset the ingredients of our mush, and we arrived on
the spot just in season to save the pail from the hands
of ruthless "flankers" — another term for thieves used
among us. Ruefully we looked at the composition on
the ground, and then at each other's faces, and went to
bed that night sadder and hungrier than we got up,
without breakfast, dinner, or supper.

The next morning, in sheer desperation through
hunger, to which we had not got so thoroughly accus-
tomed as we subsequently did, we sold some article of
clothing for a johnny-cake about the size of the top
of my hat, and ate it with comic voracity ; and I confess,
with all my hunger, I could not but laugh, the whole
group was so exceedingly comical and ludicrous. One
of our number, never too fat, in about a month after
our capture had become a picturesque combination of
skin and bones, pitch-pine smoke, and dingy blue, sur-
mounted by an old hat, through a hole in the top of
which his hair projected like an Indian plume. As
he eagerly, but critically, broke piece after piece for
mouthfuls, and, as he termed the process of eating,
demolished it, his critical eye detected a substance
foreign to johnny-cake, which, upon nearer examina-
tion, proved to be an overgrown louse, which had tragi-
cally met his fate in Indian meal. The reader will
6

82 THE soldier's story.

query, Did this spoil your appetite? I assure such,
"not a bit;" for we ate it down to the crumbs, and
hungrily looked into each other's face as though some
one was to blame that there was no more.

Cooking our bacon was generally performed by fix-
ing it upon a sharp stick, and holding it over a fire ;
by those who were lucky enough to possess the imple-
ments, or utensils, by frying over a fire ; but in a great
majority of cases was eaten raw, which was also the
popular way of eating fresh meat, when we got it, as
it was considered a cure and preventive for scurvy.
But the custom, I believe, to be more owing to the
scarcity of wood, than from any sanitary provision or
forethought of ours. Wliat was prompted by necessity
we made a virtue of, by seeing some good in every
extreme into which we were forced by circumstances.
I, for one, was always too hungry to wait for it to be
cooked, especially when I had to build a fii*e and find
wood.

A favorite dish was prepared, by taking a pint of
Indian meal, mixing it in water, and the dough thus
made was formed into dumplings about the size of a
hen's egg. These were boiled with bits of bacon, about
as big as marbles, until they floated upon the top of the
soup. Thus made, the dumplings were taken out, cut
open, and the soup poured on, giving us a dish which
was a great luxury, although under other circum-
stances we would not have insulted our palates with
such a concoction. Sometimes we made coffee of

A QUEER CHAKACTEK. 83

burned bits of bread, by boiling them in a tin cup,
which was greedily drank, without sweetening or milk.
This was our introduction into the living death of
Anderson ville, which, in spite of its comic side, had
not one gleam of comfort to illuminate the misery
of bondage. Sad as was the introduction during our
first month's imprisonment, it afterwards became inex-
pressibly worse.

About this time, I became acquainted with a soldier
who had been in the Confederate prison at Cahawba.
He had then been a prisoner a year, and was worn
down to a mere shadow, by his restless spirit and want
of nourishing food. He was pointed out to me repeated-
ly as one who had escaped several times, and had been
recaptured by bloodhounds. He introduced himself
one day in a very characteristic manner. Coming
along, he observed us eating, saying, " How are ye ? "
sat down, and looking first at one of our party and then
at another, to see how far it would do to go, he grad-
ually helped himself to johnny-cake and molasses,
which we happened to have as a luxury. With great
coolness he gave a relishing smack to his lips, as he
used up the last of the molasses on the last piece of
johnny-cake, and said, "Those 'lasses are gx>od." He
was a Kentuckian, and naturally a good deal of a fel-
low. Nature, at least, had stocked him well with shrewd-
ness, impudence, and daring, — qualities not to be de-
spised in such a place. Through him I became initiated
into all the mysteries of tunnelling, and other modes of

84 THE soldier's STORY.

egress from prison. I commenced my first tunnel with
him, and was conversant with all his plans.

One day this man said to me, that about all the way
he knew of getting out the prison was to "die." They
carry the dead out, but it is hard work for the living to
get a sight. I did not exactly understand Billy, for I
knew lie had too much of the game character to give
up in despondency ; and as for dying, I had no idea he
thought seriously of such a thing as long as there was
a kick in him. You can imagine my surprise, to see
two comrades seriously lugging poor Billy out on a
stretcher one morning, with his toes tied together, —
which was all the ceremony we had in prison in laying
out the dead. I took a last look at poor Billy as he lay
upon the stretcher, and said, "Poor fellow! I little
thought he would go in this way." "He makes a very
natural corpse," said one of the boys ; and sure enough,
he looked the same almost as in life, only his face was
a little dirtier if anything. The next day I was startled
to hear, that after Billy was laid in the dead-house,
he took to his legs as lively as ever, and walked away.
He never was heard of in my prison experiences again,
and probably escaped to Sherman's army, wliich was
then at M{\£ietta.

Tunnelling was performed in much the manner
woodchucks dig their holes. First, a hole was sunk
about five feet in the ground, then were commenced
parallels, the hole sufficiently large to admit one. The
labor was performed during the night, and the dirt

" He was shot through tlie lungs, and laid near the dead line
writhing in torments (luring most oftiie forenoon. " —Page 85.

THE DEAD LINE. g^

carried off in haversacks and bags, and scattered around
camp. The mouth of the tunnel was covered up during
tJie day to prevent discovery, which was more liable
to happen than otherwise, from the fact that great
milucements of extra rations were offered to spies. I
was engaged in digging, during the first month, on no
less than four, which were all discovered before beino-
finished. °

One of the great instruments of death in the prison
was the dead line. This line consisted of a row of
stakes driven into the ground, with narrow board strips
nailed down upon the top, at the distance of about
fifteen feet from the stockade, on the interior side.
This line was closely guarded by sentinels, stationed
above on the stockade, and any person who approached
It, as many unconsciously did, and as in the crowd was
often unavoidable, was shot dead, with no warning what-
ever to admonish him that death was near. An instance
of this kind came to my notice the second day I was in
prison. A poor one-legged cripple placed one hand on
the dead line to support him while he got his crutch
which had fallen from his feeble grasp to the ground.'
In this position he was shot through the lungs, and laid
near the dead line writhing in torments during most of
the forenoon, until at last death came to his relief. None
dared approach him to relieve his sufferings through
fear of the same fate. The guard loaded his musket
after he had performed this dastardly act, and grinning
with satisfaction, viewed the body of the dying, murt

86 THE soldier's stoey.

dered man, for nearly an hour, with apparent pleasure,
occasionally raising the gun to threaten any one who,
from curiosity or pity, dared to approach the poor fellow.
In a similar manner men were continually shot upon
the smallest pretext, and that it was notliing but a
pretext was apparent from the fact that one man ap-
proaching the dead line could have in no manner harmed
the cumbersome stockade, even had he been inclined so
to do, and a hundred men could not, with their united
strength, have forced it. Frequently the guard fired
indiscriminately into a crowd. On one occasion I
saw a man wounded and another killed ; one was
lying under his blanket asleej), the other standing some
distance from the dead line.

A key to this murderous, inhuman practice was to
be found in a standing order at rebel headquarters,
that " any sentinel killing a Federal soldier, approach-
ing the dead line, shall receive a furlough of sixty days ;
while for woundins: one he shall receive a furloufjh for
thirty days." This order not only offered a permium
for murder, but encouraged the guard in other outrages,
as:ainst which we had no defence whatever. Men
innocent of any intention to infringe the prison regula-
tions were not safe when lying in the quiet of their
blankets at night. Four or five instances happened
within range of my observation at Anderson ville, and
there were dozens of cases which I heard of, succeeding
the report of guns in the stockade. Scarcely a night
or day passed but the sharp crack of a rifle told of the

OUTRAGES IN ANDEESONVILLE . 87

murder of another defenceless victim. Men becoming
tired of life committed suicide in this manner. They
had but to get under the dead line, or lean upon it, and
their fate was sealed in death.

An incident of this kind came to my knowledge in
July. A New York soldier had tried once or twice to es-
cape, by wliich means he had lost his cooking utensils and
his blanket, and was obliged to endure the rain and heat
without protection, and to borrow, beg, or steal cook-
ing implements, eat his food raw, or starve. Lying
in the rain often at night, followed by the tropical heat
of day, was torture which goaded him to desperation.
He announced his determination to die, and getting over
the dead line, was shot through the heart. One can-
not be a constant witness to such scenes without beins:
affected by them. I doubt not he saved himself by
such a course much trouble and pain, anticipating by
only a few weeks a death he must eventually have
suffered.

Under the tortures of imprisonment, where its con-
tinuation is certain, is a man blamable in hastenins: or
anticipating death by a few weeks or days, thus saving
himself from the lingering tortures of death by exposure
and starvation? God in his mercy only can answer it,
and will at the final judgment day, when the prison
victim and his unrelenting foe shall be arraigned before
HiDi who noteth even the fall of a sparrow !

There being no sanitary regulations in camp, and
no proper medical provisions, sickness and death

88 THE soldiee's story.

were Inevitable accompaniments of our imprisonment,
Thousands of prisoners were so affected with scurvy,
caused by want of vegetables, or of nutritious food, that
their limbs were ready to drop from their bodies. I
have often seen maggots scooped out by the handful
from the sores of those thus afflicted. Upon the first
attack of scurvy, an enervating weakness creeps over the
body, which is followed by a disinclination to exercise ;
the legs become swollen and weak, and often the cords
contract, drawing the leg out of shape ; the color of the
skin becomes black and blue, and retains pressure from
the fingers as putty will. This is frequently followed by
dropsical symptoms, swelling of the feet and legs. If
the patient Avas subject to trouble with the throat, the
scurvy would attack that part ; if afflicted Avith or pre-
disposed to any disease, there it would seize and
develop, or aggravate it in the system.

In cases of this character, persons ignorant of their
condition would often be trying to do something for a
disease which in reality should have been treated as
scurvy, and coidd have been prevented or cured by
proper food. A common form of scurvy was in the
mouth : this was the most horrible in its final results of
any that afflicted the prisoners. The teeth would
become loosened, the gums rot away, and swallowing
the saliva thus tainted with the poison of scurvy, would
produce scurvy in the bowels, which often took the
form of chronic diarrhoea. Sometimes bloating of the
bowels would take place, followed by terrible suffering

BREEDING OF PESTILENCE. 89

and death. Often scvxrvy sores would gangrene, and
maggots would crawl from the flesh, and pass from the
bowels, and, under the tortures of a slow death, the
body would become, in part, putrid before death. In
this manner died Corporal Gibson, an old, esteemed,
and pious man of my company. Two or thr^e others
also died in much the same manner. Corporal Gibson
especially had his reason and senses clear, after most
of his body was in a putrid condition. In other cases,
persons wasted to mere skeletons by starvation and
disease, unable to help themselves, died by inches the
most terrible of deaths, with not a particle of medicine,
or a hand lifted by those in charge of the prison for
their relief.

There was a portion of the camp, forming a kind of
a swamp, on the north side of the branch, as it was
termed by the rebels, which ran through the centre of
the camp. This swamp was used as a sink by the
prisoners, and was putrid with the corruption of human
offal. The stench polluted and pervaded the whole
atmosphere of the prison. When the prisoner was
fortunate enough to get a breath of air outside the
prison, it seemed like a new development of creation,
so different was it from the poisonous vapors inhaled
from this cesspool with which the prison air was reek-
ing. During the day the sun drank up the most
noxious of these vapors, but in the night the terrible
miasma and stench pervaded the atmosphere almost to
suffocation.

90 THE soldier's STORY.

In the month of July, it became apparent that,
unless something was done to abate the nuisance, the
whole camp would be swejit away by some terrible
disease engendered by it. Impelled by apprehensions
for the safety of themselves and the troops stationed
around the camp, on guard, the rebel authorities of the
prison furnished the necessary implements to the pris-
oners, who filled about half an acre of the worst of the
sink with earth excavated from the hill-side. The space
thus filled in was occupied, almost to the very verge of
the sink, by the prisoners, gathered here for the con-
veniences of the place, and for obtaining water. Men,
redueed by starvation and disease, would drag them-
selves to this locality, to lie down and die uncared for,
almost unnoticed. I have counted fifteen dead bodies
in one morning near this sink, where they had died
during the night. I have seen forty or fifty men in
a dying condition, who, with their little remaining
strength, had dragged themselves to this place for its
conveniences, and, unable to get back again, were
exposed in the sun, often without food, until death
relieved them of the burden of life. Frequently, on
passing them, some were found reduced to idiocy, and
many, unable to articulate, would stretch forth their
wasted hands in piteous supplication for food or water,
or point to their lips, their glazed eyes presenting that
staring fixedness which immediately precedes death.
On some the flesh would be dropping from then* bones
with scurvy ; in others little of humanity remained in

TERRIBLE MORTALITY. 91

their wasted forms but skin drawn over bones. Nothing
ever before seen in a civilized country could give one
an adequate idea of the physical condition to which
disease, starvation, and exposure reduced these men.
It was only strange that men should retain life so long
as to be reduced to the skeleton condition of the great
mass who died in prison.

In June prisoners from Sherman's and Grant's armies
came in great numbers. After the battles of Spottsyl-
vania and of the Wilderness, over two thousand pris-
oners came in at one time. Most of those who came
through Richmond had their blankets taken from them,
and in many instances were left with only shirt, hat,
and pantaloons. These lay in groups, often wet through
with rain at night, and exposed to the heat of a tropical
sun daily. With such night and day were alike to be
dreaded. The terrible rains of June were prolific of
disease and death. It rained almost incessantly twenty-
one days during the month. Those of the prisoners
who were not by nature possessed of unyielding courage
and iron constitutions broke down under the terrible
inflictions of hunger, exposure, and mental torments.
The scenes that met the eye on every side were not
calculated to give hopeful tendencies to the mind dis-
tressed by physical and mental torture. Men died at
so rapid a rate that one often found himself wondering
and speculating when and how his turn would come ;
for that it must come, and that soon, seemed inevitable
under the circumstances. No words can express the

92 THE soldier's story.

terrible sufferings which hunger and exposure inflicted
upon the kickless inmates of Andersonville Prison.
During one week there were said to have died thirteen
hundred and eighty men. Death lost all its sanctity
by reason of its frequent occurrence, and because of
the inability of suffering men, liable at any moment to
experience a like fate, to help others. To show funeral
honors to the dead, or soothe the last moments of the
dying, was impracticable, if not impossible. Those
whose natures had not raised them superior to fate lost
their good humor and gayety, and pined away in hope-
less repinings ; — dreaming of home, and giving way to
melancholy forebodings, which could be productive of
no good result. Others, of an opposite mould of char-
acter, whom nothing could daunt, still retained some-
thing of their natural gayety and humor amid all the
wretchedness by which they were surrounded. To such
trials .were but so many incentives to surmount and
overcome difficulties. If the prisoner gave way to
languor and weakness, and failed to take necessary
exercise, — if he did not dispose his mind to take cheer-
ful views of his condition, and look upon the bright
side of that which seemed to be but darkness and
misery, — he might as well give up hope of life at once.
In prison one must adapt himself to the circumstances
which threaten to crowd him out of existence, or die.
He must look upon filth, dirt, innumerable vermin,
and even death, with complacency, and not distress
himself about that which is unavoidable, while he must

BATTLING FOR LIFE. 93

never cease battling against them. No matter if he did
know that his cooked beans had been shovelled from a
cart in which, a few hours before, the dead had been
piled up and taken away to the grave, — he couldn't
afford to get disgusted and reject the sustenance on that
account. He must eat the food and adapt himself and
his appetite to relish the dose, which is not so difficult
to a man when very hungry. There must be a general
closing up of the avenues of delicacy and sensibility,
and a corresponding opening of all that is cheerful and
truly hopeful in one's nature. I do not mean that hope
which buoys one up by unreasonable anticipations, and
which, when disappointed, becomes despair. It should
be a general, cheerful hopefulness, that builds no air-
castles of exchange, or speedy liberation by raids, but
sees hope even in the circumstances of misery, and
draws comfort and consolation from the thought that
things can be no worse. There must be a kind of
mental "don't-care" sort of recklessness of the future,
combined with doing what you can to comfort yourself
now, which is, after all, the preservation of a soldier in
thousands of cases. There is a kind of armor of indif-
ference which yields to circumstances, but cannot be pen-
trated by them. As soon as one gives way to melan-
choly despondency, as thousands naturally do under
such circumstances, the lease of such a man's life in
prison is not worth purchasing.

The occasion of so much sickness and death was found
in the causes enumerated, with the insufficiency in quan-

94 THE soldier's story.

tity of food, its unsuitableness in quality, and the ab-
sence of all vegetables. The heating nature of Indian
meal — the cob ground with the corn, also had its eftects
in producing an unhealthy condition of things. During
July one could scarcely step without seeing some poor
victim in his last agonies. The piteous tones of en-
treaty, the famine-stricken look of these men, their
bones in some cases worn through their flesh, were
enough to excite pity and compassion in hearts of
stone.

Death by starvation and exposure was preceded by a
mild kind of insanity or idiocy, when the mind felt not
the misery of the body, and was unable to provide for
its wants. We gave water and words of sympathy to
wretches who were but a few degrees worse than our-
selves. But there was dang-er when we jjave food that
we might starve ourselves, while that which we fur-
nished to another would not preserve his life. If you
allowed every sick man to drink from your cup, you
were liable to bring upon yourself the terrible infliction
of scurvy in the mouth, which was as much to be
dreaded as death. Even a gratification of your keenest
human sympathies thus became the potent cause of
self-destruction and suffering to him who indulged in
so great a luxury.

The terrible truth was, that in prison one could not
attempt to relieve the misery of others more miserable
than hmiself, Avithout placing himself in greater peril.
Was it wonderful that the cries of dying, famished men

I

PHIIiOSOPHISING ON MISERY. 95

were unheeded by those who were battling with fate to
preserve their own lives? If there were some who
turned ears of deafness to distressed tones of entreaty,
who forgot the example of the " good Samaritan " in
their own distress, the fault and sin (if sin or fault there
was under such torture and condition) were surely not
upon their own heads, but upon the heads of those who
had crowded into our daily existence so much of misery
as to leave no room for the gratification of kindly
sympathies, and had drowned out the finer sensibilities
in the struggles with despair and death for self-preser-
vation. Subjects of pity rather than of blame, they
were not allowed the luxury of pity and sympathetic
action. Yet many there were, surrounded by and suf-
fering acutest torture, who moved like angels of mercy
among suffering companions stricken by famine and
disease.

It is a terrible thing to feel one's self starving ; to
brace every nerve against the approach of death, and
summon to the aid of the body all its selfishness : yet
men, in spite of the necessity of so doing in order to
preserve life, assisted and soothed one another in hours
of sickness, distress, and melancholy ; and such had a
reward in the consciousness of duty performed, of un-
selfish devotion, surrounded by fiimine and death — the
bitter cup of misery pressed to their own lips, yet having
still a care for others, under circumstances of trial when
the thoughts of most men were turned upon themselves,
and oblivious to others' woes amid their own misery.

96 THE soldier's story.

Most prisoners, being only soldiers temporarily, have
at variance two distinct elements of feeling, one spring-
ing from their habitual and the other from their tempo-
rary mode of life ; one springing from peaceful asso-
ciations, with the seclusions of home, or the luxury of
the business activity of city life ; the other from the
more recent influences of the camp and battle-field.
These incongruous elements are in constant antago-
nism. One moment it is the soldier, improvident and
careless of the future, reckless of the present, laughing
at discomforts and pi'ivations, and merry in the midst
of intense suffering. Then it is the quiet citizen, com-
plaining of misfortune, sighing for home and its dear
ones, dreaming of seclusion and peace, yielding to de-
spondency and sorrow. And this is perhaps fortunate,
for at least there is less danger that the prisoner shall
become improvident with the one element, or a miser
dead to every feeling with the other. Most prisoners,
in such misfortunes, are apt to indulge in a kind of
post-mortem examination of their previous life, to dis-
sect that portion of their past history which is seldom
anatomized without arriving at the conclusion tliat pres-
ent misfortunes are nearly in all cases due to some rad-
ical error in their own lives. Misfortunes render some
men reckless ; others, on the contrary, become cautious
through failure and wise through misfortune. And
such, retracing in their leisure hours their paths of life,
question the sorrowful spectres of perished hopes which
haunt the crowded graveyards of the past. They draw

INSAOTTY FROM STARVATION. 97

from the past nought but cold realities ; they cut into
the body of their blighted life and hopes, and seek to
learn of what disease it died. This is rational ; it is
instructive and courageous ; but, unfortunately, it is not
pleasant. Better to light anew the corpse of the dead
past, to in wreathe the torn hair with blossoms, to tinge
the livid cheek with the purple flush of health, to en-
kindle the glazed eyes with eloquent lustre, to breathe
into the pallid lips the wonted echoes of a familiar voice,
which may discourse to us pleasantly of long departed
joys and of old happy hours. There is a piteous con •
solation in it, like the mournful solace of those who,
having lost some being near and dear to them, plant
the dear grave with flowers. It is this inward self which
is all his own that the prison leisure leads the speculative
captive daily to analyze. After a voyage of memory
over the ocean of the past, he returns to the sad present
with a better heart, and endeavors, from the newly-
kindled stars which have arisen above the vapory hori-
zon of his prison life, to cast the horoscope of a wiser
future.

I have spoken of a mild kind of insanity which pre-
cedes death caused by starvation and brooding melan-
choly, in which the mind wanders from real to imaginary
scenes. Private Peter Dunn, of my company, was an
instance of this kind. At an early date of his impris-
onment he lost his tin cup, which Avas with him, as
commonly was the case throughout the prison, the only
cooking implement. His blanket wa^ also lost, and he
7

98 THE soldiek's story.

was left destitute of all shelter and of every comfort
except that which was furnished him by companions
who wore sufferers in common with himself, and not
overstocked with necessaries and comforts. Gradually,
as he wasted away, his mind wandered, and in imagina-
tion he was the possessor of those luxuries which the
imagination will fasten upon when the body feels the
keenest pangs of hunger. With simple sincerity he
would frequently speak of some luxury which he im-
agined he had partaken of. Suddenly a gleam of intel-
ligence would overspread his face ; he would speak of
the prison, and say, "This is a dreadful place for the
boys — isn't it ? I don't enjoy myself when I have any-
thing good to eat, there are so many around me who
look hungry." And then, gazing in my face, said, in
the saddest modulations I ever heard in hiunan voice,
"You look hungry too, Sarg." And then, sinking his
voice to a whisper, added, " O dear ! I'm hungry my-
self, a good deal." Poor, poor Peter ! he soon died a
lingering death from the effects of starvation and expo-
sure. In the lucid moments that preceded death, he
said, as I stood over his poor famine-pinched form,
" I'm dreadful cold and hungry, Sarg." He again re-
lapsed into a state of wandering, with the names of
" Mary " and " Mother " on his lips ; and the last faint
action of life, when he could no longer speak, was to
point his finger to his pallid, gasping lips, in mute en-
treaty for food !

Charles E. Bent was a drummer in my company, a

CASES OF SUTFEEING. 99

fine lad, with as big a heart in his small body as ever
throbbed in the breast of a man. He was a silent boy,
who rarely manifested any outward emotion, and spoke
but seldom, but, as his comrades expressed it, " kept up
a thinking." I observed nothing unusual in his conduct
or manner to denote insanity, until one afternoon, about
sundown, one of his comrades noticed the absence of a
ring commonly worn upon his hand, and inquired where
it was. " When I was out just now," he said, " my sis-
ter came and took it, and gave it to an angel." The
next day, as the sun went down, its last rays lingered,
it seemed to me, caressingly upon the dear, pallid face
of the dead boy. His pain and sorrow were ended,
and heartless men no longer could torture him with
hunger and cruelty.

But while the minds of many became unsettled with
idiocy or insanity, there were other instances where a
vivid consciousness and clearness of mental vision were
retained to the very verge of that country " from whence
no traveller returns."

C. H. A. Moore was a drummer in my company —
the only son of a widowed mother : all the wealth of
maternal affection had been fondly lavished upon him.
In him all her hopes were centred, and it was with great
reluctance that she finally agreed to his enlistment. A
soldier's life, to one thus reared, is at best hard ; but to
plunge one so young and unaccustomed even to the
rudiments of hardships into the unparalleled miseries
of Andersonville, seemed cruelty inexpressible. He

100 THE soldier's STORY.

was just convalescent from a typhoid fever when cap-
tured. In prison he gradually wasted away until he
died. The day previous to his death I saw and con-
versed with him, tried to encourage and cheer him ; but
a look of premature age had settled over his youthful
fa?e, which bore but little semblance to the bright, ex-
pressive look he wore when he enlisted. He Avas per-
fectly sane, and conversed with uncommon clearness
and method, as though his mind had been suddenly
developed by intense suffering. His face bore an un-
changed, listless expression, which, I have noticed in
prison, betokened the loss of hope. He spoke of home
and of his mother, but his woi'ds were all in the same
key, monotonous and weary, with a stony, unmoved
expression of coimtenance. On a face so young I
never saw such iudescribabie hopelessness. It Avas de-
spaii' petrified ! And when I think of it, even now, it
pierces me to the heart. His was a lingering death by
starvation and exposure, with no relief from unmitigated
misery. It seems to me that God's evei'lasting curse
must surely rest upon those who thus knowingly allowed
hundreds of innocent young lives to be blotted out of
existence by cruelties unheard of before in the annals
of civilized Avarfare. It seems to me that in the future
'the South, who abetted so great a crime against civ-
ilization and humanity, against Chi'istianity and even
decency, must stand condemned by the public opinion
of the Avorld, until she has done " works meet for re-
pentance."

PRISON VOCABULARY. 101

CHAPTER V

Prison Vocabulary. — Punishment of Larcenies. — Scenes of Vio-
lence. — Destitution provocative of Troubles. — Short Rations.

— More Fights. — Advantages of Strength of Body and Mind. —
New Standards of Merit. — Ingenuity profitable. — Development
of Faculties. — New Trades and Kinds of Business. — Cures for
all Ills and Diseases. — Trading to get more Food. — Burden of
Bad Habits. — Experience in Trade. — Stock in Trade eaten up
by Partner. — A Shrewd Dealer destroys the Business. — Trading
Exchange. — Excitement in the Issue of Rations. — A Starving Man
killed. — His Murderer let off easy through Bribery. — Consider-
able Money in the Camp. — Tricks upon Rebel Traders in Prison.

— Counterfeit or Altered Money disposed of.

THE prison had a vocabulary of words peculiarly
its own, which, if not new in themselves, were
novel in their significance. A thief, for instance, was
termed a "flanker," or a "half shave," the latter term
originating in a wholesome custom, which prevailed in
pris(m, of shaving the heads of those who were caught
pilfering, on one side, leaving the other untouched.
Thus they would remain sufficiently long to attract
universal attention and derision. The shaving was a
less punishment in itself than its final consequences, for
a fellow with half-shaven crown was lucky if he escaped
a beating or a ducking every hour of the day. Where

102 THE soldier's stoey.

a thief had the boldness to steal in open daylight, and
by a dash, grab and rnu, to get off with his booty, he
was termed a "raider," wliich was considered one grade
above the sneaking "flanker." The articles stolen
were usually cooking utensils, or blankets, for the want
of which, many a man died. Either epithet, "flanker"
or "raider," hurled at a fast-retreating culprit, would
insure a general turnout in the vicinity, to stop the
offender. If the thief had shrewdness, and was not too
closely pursued, he often assumed a careless appear-
ance, mingled unperceived with his pursuers, and
joined in the "hue and cry." Woe to him who at-
tracted suspicion by undue haste when such a cry Avas
raised ; for although his errand might be one of necessity
or mercy, he was sure to be hurt before it was ascer-
tained that he was not the offending person, and his
only consolation was in the fact of his innocence, or the
thought that his head, if some sorer, was wiser than
before.

Scenes of violence Avere continually enacted in the
prison. Murders that thrilled the blood with horror
were at one time of frequent occurrence, — of which
we shall speak more particularly in coming pages, —
perpetrated by bands of desperadoes who jumped Uncle
Sam's bounties before they were retained in the firm
grasp of luilitary vigilance, and, when fairly caught,
rather than fight were taken prisoners voluntarily. Not
an hour of the day passed without some terrible fight —
often over trivial matters — taking place in the stock-

SCENES OF VIOLENCE. 103

ade. The reasons which provoked fights we^e not often
plain; but one fact was ever apparent, viz., that hun-
ger and privation did not sweeten sour tempers, or
render the common disposition at all lamb-like. A
piece of poor corn-bread, picked up in the dirt, a little
Indian meal, or a meatless bone, which a dog or pig of
New England extraction would turn up his nose at,
would provoke violent discussions as to ownership,
in which muscle, rather than equity, settled facts. Some
of these personal encounters ended in a general fight,
where all who were desirous of that kind of recreation
took a part. It was quite a curious fact that when
rations were scarcest in prison, fights were plentiest.
In the absence of food, some took pleasure in beating
each other. "I've not had anything to eat to-day,
and would like to lick some varmint as has," said
Kentucky Joe, a gaunt, half-starved, but never de-
sponding fellow. "I'm your man," said Pat B., and
at it they went, till Kentucky was beaten to his satis-
faction, and acknowledged that " a Warmint ' who had
eaten corn-dodger for breakfast was * too much ' for one
'as hadn't.'" The writer, seeing no fun in a muss,
kept out of them, foreseeing misery enough, without
a broken head to nurse. The great mass could ill
aflford to expend strength in such encounters, and it was
usually easy to keep out of them w^ithout sneaking.

I have often, however, seen men who were weak with
disease, and weak to such a degree that they could
scarcely stand, engage in pugilistic encounters piteous

104 THE soldier's STORY.

to contemplate. I call to memory two almost skeleton
men, whom I once saw enoao-ed in fio-litinnf for the
possession of a few pine knots ! Bareheaded, in a
broiling sun, barefooted, their clothes in tatters, they
bit and scratched, and rolled in the dirt together. I
left them, their hands clutched in each other's hair, —
with barely remaining strength to rally a kick, — gazing
into each other's eyes with the leaden, lustreless glare of
famine stamped there — a look which I cannot describe,
but which some comrade of misery will recognize.

The strong often tyrannized over the weak, and as
we see it in all gatherings of men, the strong in physi-
cal health and in possessions kept their strength, while
the many weak grew weaker and Aveaker, until they
were crowded out of life into the small space gi'udg-
ingly allowed them for graves. Each man stood or fell
on merits different from those which had been valued
by friends at home. He found himself measured by
different standards of merit from those used in any of
his previous walks of life. Rough native force or talent
showed itself by ingenious devices for making the most
of little. He who could make Indian meal and water
into the most palatable form was " looked up to."
He v;ho could cook with little wood, and invent from
the mud a fireplace in which to save fuel, was a genius !
The producer of comforts from the squalid, crude
material of life was respected as much as hunger
would allow us to respect anything. He it was who
got a start in the prison world, and managed to live.

TRADING TALENT. 105

It was desirable on the part of prisoners to follow
some trade or occupation which should give to the
individual means to purchase the few desirable luxuries
which could be obtained of those who came into prison
from among the rebels with permission to trade. By
this method there were hopes of life, even if existence
was misery. Yankee ingenuity was consequently taxed
to the utmost to invent "from the rouoh" some
kind of business that would pay — an onion, a potato,
or an extra allowance of Indian meal per week. Under
the fruitful maxim that "necessity is the mother of
invention," it was surprising how trades and business
started into life. Had these men been placed in a
forest where raw material could readily be got at, I
believe they would have produced every " item " of a
city's wants, so well were we represented in the trades.
The strivings for life were piteous, but often comical in
their developments. Some traded their hats and boots,
or a slyly-kept watch, for beans or flour, and with this
elementary start began " sutlers' business." Another
genius developed a process for converting Indian meal
into beer, by souring it in water. And " sour beer," as
it was termed, speedily became one of the institutions.
This beer was vended around the camp by others, who
pronounced it a cure for scurvy, cclds, fever, gangrene,
and all other ills the stockade was heir too, and they
were many. You would at one part of the stockade
hear a voice loudly proclaiming a cure for scurvy ; you
approach, and find him vending " sour beer ; " — another

106 THE soldier's STORY.

proclaiming loudly a cure for diarrhcea : he would be
selling " sour beer ; " and so through a long catalogue
of evils would be proclaimed their remedies.

One day I was almost crushed in a crowd who were
attracted by a fellow crying aloud, " Stewed beans,
with vinesfar on to um ! " The vineijar turned out to
be "sour beer." Stuck upon a shingle I observed a
sign which read, " Old Brewery ; Bier for Sail, by the
glass or bucketful, hole sail, retail, or no tail at all."
I remember one ingenious fellow, who, with a jackknife
and file and a few bits of wire, was engaged in getting
into ticking order " played-out " watches , that had re-
fused to go unless they were carried ; and the inge-
nuity he displayed in coaxing them to tick was surpris-
ing. In one instance the watch tinker mentioned made
for a friend of mine an entire watch-spring of whale-
bone, which set the watch ticking in such a tremendous
manner, for a few minutes after being wound up, as to
call forth the admiring ejaculation from the Secesh pur-
chaser, " Gosh, how she does go it ! " The watch
stopped — ^Wund down," as the amazed Johnny after-
wards said, " quicker nor a flash." You will readily un-
derstand that prisoners cared but little about watches
except so far as they were tradable for Indian meal,
hog, or hominy.

Another occupation was cooking beans and selling
them by the plateful to such hungry ones as covild af-
ford to trade for them. Various were the means of
" raising the wind " to obtain a supply to carry on the

MODES OF TRADE. 107

trade. Often some article of clothing, or buttons off
the jacket, were traded for them. But a more common
method was to trade the buttons or clothing for tobacco,
and then trade tobacco for beans ; for those addicted to
the use of the weed would frequently remark that it
was easier to go without a portion of their food, how-
ever scanty, than without their tobacco. In prison one
thus paid the penalties of bad habits previously formed.
One accustomed to the habit of taking a dram of some-
thing stimulating each day, died in prison for want of it.
Habits, like chickens, "come home to roost," and were
often the millstones that sunk their possessors into the
hopeless misery which went before death. Thus, when
only about half a pint of beans, uncooked, per day
were issued, sometimes with a little bacon, men would
lay aside a few each day to trade for tobacco.

The modes of selling were various ; but the most
common way of finding purchasers by those who had
but a small capital of a few pints of beans, was to pro-
ceed to the principal thoroughfare, — for even here we
were compelled to have paths unoccupied by recumbent
men and their "traps," through a general understand-
ing, or we should have continually trod on one
another. Broadway, as we termed it, was the scene
of most of the trading done in camp. The venders,
sitting with their legs under them, like tailors, pro-
claimed loudly the quantity and quality of beans or
mush they could sell for a stated price. Some would
exultantly state that theirs had pepper and salt " on to

108 THE soldier's STORY.

um ; " and sometimes vinegar was cried out as one of
the virtues possessed by the vender of beans, and then
there would be a rush to see, if not to eat. Sometimes
I have seen on Broadway from fifty to seventy venders
of beans, who, together with small gamblers with
sweat-boards, on which could be staked five cents, and
hasty-pudding dealers and sour beer sellers, all of whom
sat on the ground, looking anxious, dirty, and hungry
enough to make the hardest part of their task a resist-
ing of the temptation to eat up their stock in trade.
I cannot refrain from narrating my own experience in
that line, it was so characteristic of experience common
to those who engaged in like speculations.

Clifton V. and myself possessed a joint capital of
an old watch, mention of which has been made, and a
surplus of one pair of army shoes, — for I went bare-
foot, disdaining to abridge the freedom of my feet when
it interfered with business. We invested them in beans,
which were, like those usually issued, possessed, previ-
ous to our possession, by grubs and worms. The terms
of our copartnership were, that he, " Cliff," was to do
the selling, while I and a companion named Damon
cooked, bargained for wood, and transacted the general
business of the "concern." Accordingly Cliff showed
his anxious face and raised his treble voice shrilly in
the market-place. The first day's sale brought us about
one pint of extra beans. The next day Cliffs hunger
got the better of his judgment and firm resolve to be
prudent, and he ate up near half our stock in trade,

PERSONAL EXPERIENCE IN TRADE. 109

which was ve.xatious; but I could not reprove him,
seeino- how cheerful it made him feel, and how sorry he
said he really was. Besides, his full stomach gave lum
rose-colored views of the morrow's trade.

The morrow came, and Cliff made a "ten-strike,
selling off all the beans I could cook, and was beside
himself at the prospects of our having enough to eat
"rio-ht straight along." The next morning I invested
lar-ely in beans, in all about three quarts, wet measure,
and borrowed a kettle that would cook about half of
them, and paid for the convenience in trade. That day
proved the ruin of the bean trade. Cliff came back
despondently, declaring beans didn't seU ; and the mys-
tery was soon solved by the fact that on the south side
of the branch they were issuing cooked beans. Where-
upon, ascertaining beyond a doubt the truth of this,
Cliff and myself sat down and ate one good square
meal, did the same at supper time, finished them for
breakfast next morning, and lived at least one day with
full stomachs — a ch-cumstance that seldom happened
before or afterwards in our prison experience. Thus
ended the bean trade.

After rations were issued, there would be a general
meeting of a densely packed crowd, all trying to trade
for something more palatable, or for that which they
had not got. Some would cry out, "Who will trade
cooked beans for raw?" "Who wiH trade wood for
beans ^ " " Who will trade salt for wood ? " while some
.peculator would trade little bits of tobacco for any kind

110 THE soldier's STORY.

of rations. The issue of rations was often a moment
of fearful excitement. A crowd of five or six thousand,
like a hungry pack of wolves, would fill the space be-
fore the gateway, all scrambling to get a look at the
rations, as though even the sight of food did them good.
At one time, during such a scene, one of the dstailed
men, who acted as a teamster, — and those so employed
were always men that were loudest in blaming our gov-
ernment and "old Abe," and were insolent and well
fed, — when one of the pack of hungry wi*etches put
his hand out to clutch a falling crumb from the cart, the
teamster beat his brains out with one blow of a club.
He was tried by our stockade court of justice, (?) and
condemned — to cart no more bread; owing, doubtless,
to the fact of his having a few greenbacks, made in
selling our rations.

Among the occupations of the prison was that of
baker. The ovens were made of clay, kneaded and
formed into bricks. The foundation was laid with
those bricks while they were in a damp condition,
being allowed to dry in the sun for two or three days,
and then were ready as a basis for the oven. Sand
was first carefully heaped upon the centre of the founda-
tion, in shape of the interior of it, when done ; over this
mould the bricks were laid, and dried until the sand
making the mould would bear removal, which was care-
fully done by the use of sticks, at the opening which
was left for a door. A fire was then built inside, after
which it was ready for use. There were only a

OCCUPATIONS. Ill

favored few who got wood enough to consummate and
carry on such an undertaking. The ovens described
baked very good johnny-cake, and sometimes wheat
biscuit. It was a convenience to be able to get rations
cooked for three or four at halves. Thus our scanty
rations often had to be diminished by one half, or eaten
raw. There were others who followed the trade of
bucket-makers, and very fair wooden buckets were
made with no other tools than twine and a jackknife.
As all water, mth exceptional cases of those who owned
wells, had to be brought from the brook, — often quite a
distance for weak men to travel in the sun, — these
were very desirable. There were several kettle-makers,
who found material, somehow, of sheet tin and iron
from the top of rail-cars, smuggled into prison by the
rebels, who were fond of Yankee greenbacks. These
were also a convenience to those who formed a mess,
and made a saving of wood by cooking tog'ether.
These kettles were made with no other implements than
a common railroad spike. They were made in the
manner government camp-kettles are made, by in-
geniously bending the iron together in seams, in this
manner rendering them water-tight without solder.
Thus Yankee ingenuity developed resources where, at
first sight, there seemed nothing but barrenness and
misery. I never saw a friction-match in the stockade ;
I doubt if there were any ; yet there were always fires
somewhere, — how procured I could never understand,
except on the supposition that they never went out.

112 THE soldier's STORY.

I have entered thus minutely upon a description of
these trades and occupations in prison, from the fact that
it explains many apparently conflicting statements made
by prisoners. While those thus engaged often got the
means of subsistence, they were the exceptions of one
to a thousand of the great mass of prisoners, who were
daily perishing for want of food and from exposure.
There was quite a sum of money cu-culating in camp, in
the aggregate ; but eventually it got into the hands of
the Secesh, who were rabid for the possession of green-
backs. The rebels were constantly coming into the
prison to trade, having first obtained permission of
Wirz, the commandant of the "interior of the prison,"
as he was termed. They were fond of buying Yankee
boots, watches, and buttons. All superfluous things,
such as good caps, boots, &c., were freely traded
in exchange for anything eatable, or for wood. One
fact was quite observable — that when the Johnnies came
in to trade the second time, they were sharper than they
were at their first visit. The process of cutting their
teeth was rather gradual ; but after a while they would
become a match at driving a sharp bargain Avith the
sharpest kind of " Yanks," and prided themselves on
what they termed Yankee tricks. Buttons were in
great demand by them, especially New York and staflT
buttons, for which large prices were paid, and eagerly
traded for.

On one occasion a Jolnmy came in to trade, who
was evidently as unsophisticated and green us the

TRICKS UPON REBELS. 113

vegetables he had for sale. He traded in the first place
for a pair of army shoes, laid them down beside him,
and while busy seeing to his " fixings," one of the boys
passed the shoes around to a companion, who straight-
way appeared in front, and before the Johnny had
time to think of anything else, challenged his attention
for a trade. A trade was agreed upon, and the price
paid, before the Johnny found out that though pro-
gressing in trade, he had but one pair of shoes. So, for
safety of these precious decorations, he picked them up,
and holding them in his arms, indignantly declared,
" Durned if I can trade with yourn Yanlis in that sort
o' way, no how." We were, according to his exposi-
tion of the matter, " rather considerable right smart at
picking up traps what wan't thar own." He was thus
entertaining the boys with these original views, when
one of our fellows, just to clinch what had been so aptly
stated by the chivalrous representative, stepped up
behind him and cut off four staff buttons, which adorned
the rear of a long, swallow-tailed, butternut-colored,
short-waisted coat. After executing this rear move-
ment, he appeared in the crowd at the front, and
offered them for sale. The Johnny took the bait, and
traded his last vegetables for his own buttons, and
started off highly pleased ; and so were the boys. On
the way out of prison our Secesh friend met a com-
rade, whose attention he called to the buttons, "like um
he had on the tail " of his coat, whereupon his comrade
looked behind, and informed him that " thar was not a

114 THE soldier's STORY.

clurned button tliar," when our trading Jolirmy loudly
declared, with a rich sprinkling of oaths, that "these
yere durned Yanks had orter have their ears buttoned
back and be swallowed."

An Ohio boy at one time set himself up in the provis-
ion business by altering a greenback of one doUar into
one hundred. We considered it fair to take every
advantage of them we could contrive, and it amused us
to hear them gravely charge us with want of honesty.
Says one of them one day to me, " I've hcarn that yourn
Yanks, down thar whar you live, make wooden pump-
kin seeds, and I'll be dod rot if I don't believe I got
some of um and planted, a year afore this war, for
not a durned one cum'd up 'cept what the pesky hina
scratched up."

QUANTITY OF RATIONS. 115

CHAPTER VI.

Rations decreased, and worse in Quality. — Crowded Condition of
the Prison. — Heavy Rains and Increased Sickness. — Much Filth
and Misery. — Hunger a Demoralizer. — Plots exposed for Extra
Rations. — Difficulties of Tunnelling. — A Breath of Outside Air
and New Life. — An Escape under Pretext of getting Wood. —
Captured by Bloodhounds after a Short Flight. — Something learned
by the Adventure. — A Successful Escape believed to be possible.

— Preparations for one. — Maps and Plans made. — A New Tun-
nelling Operation from a Well. — The Tunnel a Success. — The
Outer Opening near a Rebel Camp Fire. — Escape of a Party of
Twenty. — Division into Smaller Parties. — Plans of Travel. — ■
Bloodhounds on the Path. — The Scent lost in the Water. — Va-
rious Adventures. — Short of Provisions. — Killing of a Heifer. —
Aided by a Negro. — Bloodhounds again. — Temporary Escape. —
Fight with the Bloodhounds. — Recapture. — Attempted Strategy.

— The Pay for Catching Prisoners. — Reception by Wirz. — Im-
provement by the Expedition. — Some of the Party never heard
from. — Notoriety by the Flight.

THE last of June the rations became less in quan-
tity, and worse in quality ; which, together with
the fact that the prison, originally intended for but ten
thousand, was now crowded with over twenty thousand
souls, with the incessant rains of the month, made
our situation anything but comfortable. During this
month it rained twenty-one days, almost without inter-
mission. This stirred up the refuse garbage and dirt

116 THE SOLDIEE'S STORY.

buried by those who were feeble and sick beneath the
surface of the ground one or two feet. And whether
at night, when we lay down, or in the morning when
we sat upon our only bed and seat (the ground) , it was
miserably wet, dirty, and disagreeable with unpleasant
odors. Neither could one get accustomed to, or be
able to blunt the senses to, the existence of so much
misery.

A great portion of my time from May to the last of
June was spent in unavailing attempts at escape by
means of tunnels. I was engaged in six, which were
discovered by the prison authorities before their comple-
tion. Hunger is a great demoralizer, and there were
men in prison who for an extra ration would inform the
authorities of the prison of plots and plans in which
they themselves were actively engaged. There, no
doubt, was a struggle with hunger before it obtained
mastery over them. Starve a man, and you stunt the
growth of all his finer qualities, if you do not crush
them out entii-ely. It changes the expression of his
face ; his mode of walking becomes loose, undecided ;
his intelligence is dimmed. Hunger blunts the keenest
intelligence, and deadens susceptibility to wrong doing,
and mere moral wi'ongs look small, or seem overbal-
anced, when placed by the side of food.

If you narrow down a man's purpose to sustaining
his body — let his be a continual struggle for a foot-
hold upon life, with uncertainty as to its results — give
a man, in fact, crime with bread, on the one hand, and

TUNNELLING. 117

on the other, integrity and truth with death — the thou-
sand recollections of the old home, with the arms of a
dear mother or wife or cliildren that once encircled his
neck — all these recollections bid liim live. Conse-
quently, it was difficult to trust men with secrets which
might be sold for bread. Again, an impediment
existed in digging tunnels in disposing of the earth
excavated, in such a manner as not to attract suspicion
and consequent detection. These were the potent
causes of failure in all our tunnelling plans. The
authorities were continually on the lookout for any
trace of tunnelling. "Py tam," said Captain Wirz
to some fellow who had been detected tunnelling, " vy
don't some of you Yankees get out? mine togs are
getting 'ungry to pite you."

I had been engaged on so many tunnels which were
failures, that I began to regard them as an unprofitable
speculation, yielding no prospects of a desirable nature.
In this frame of mind, I often queried if there was not
some method by which a tunnel might be successfully
completed, and began to look round me for the material
with which to practically solve so grave a problem.
One day, by much " gassing " and manoeuvring, 3
managed to get outside the stockade, under guard,
with several of my comi'ades, to obtain wood. This
was the first time since my imprisonment that I had
got a breath of the sweet air, trod upon the green
grass, scented the sweet fragTance of the wood, and
heard the carolling of birds. It was like a new

118 THE soldier's STOEY.

development of creation — some fairy land ! The
woods and verdant pastures all seemed so different
from the terrible pen in which we had been confined
for weeks, tliat nothing ever thrilled me vrith so strange
a vigor and elasticity. I cannot express my feelings
more than to say that I never had any previous ideas
of how beautiful the grass and woods were until sud-
denly contrasted with the terrible dearth of that dreadful
prison. My blood thrilled quick that morning to every
breath that reached me in the cool wood, and every
note of rejoicing freedom from the light-hearted birds
found responsive echoes in my heart.

The guards were not very strict, seemingly more
bent on trading with the prisoners than in preventing
them from rimning away. I commenced picking up
sticks, and thus gradually worked my way beyond
them. All at once I fotmd myself out of sight of the
rebel sentinels, whom I left trading peanuts for buttons
with other prisoners. For fear some guard might yet
see me, I continued to pick sticks and bits of wood,
thinking, if they found me so employed, this would
deter them from firing at me, and lull suspicions they
naturally might have that I was trying to escape. I
looked around, and saw at a distance several of my
companions, who had talvcn the hint, foUo^ving me,
picking sticks in the same manner. AVe got together,
and, wdthout saying a word, by mutual consent, dropped
our wood, and ran like mad creatures through the woods
for several miles. That night we travelled, witli the

AN ESCAPE AJSTD CAPTURE. 119

exception of one hour, which was passed beneath a tree
trying to get sleep, in the drenching rain. The next
morning we were captured by bloodhounds while cling-
ing to trees, and, more frightened at the dogs than hurt
by them, were carried back to the prison, where we
reluctantly took up our quarters again, after receiving
a damning from the accomplished (?) " conomander
of the prison."

This adventure was one advantage to me. It showed
me the way in which prisoners were hunted. I also
learned the manner the guards were picketed on the
outside of the prison, and fixed in ray mind, by obser-
vation, the location of each. I got acquainted with one
of the men engaged in hunting prisoners, and remarked
to liim that he would doubtless get a chance to hunt me
again, and I would give him more of a chance " for
travel and promotion," as we say to our raw recruits
when enlisting them. Tliis I said jocosely, not know-
ing what advantage it might prove to me in trying the
same dodge again. Not long after, several of my
friends tried the same method, and one was captured
twenty miles from the prison while eating a hearty
breakfast at a house where he was trapped. All this
satisfied me that, with a few hours' start and with suffi-
cient boldness, an escape was possible, in fact, almost
certain, if unpursued by the dogs. Reflecting in this
manner, I borrowed a map, which had been smuggled
into prison, from which I traced on paper, previously
greased in bacon fat to make it transparent and tough.

120 THE soldier's STORY.

a map of the portion of country needful for my project,
with a scale of miles and points of the compass indi-
cated on the same, besides possessing myself of all
the information I could gather from numbers of pris-
oners who had from time to time been recaptured after
escaping from prison. They all had their theories of
throwing the dogs off the scent. One believed that red
pepper rubbed upon the soles of the shoes would cause
the dogs to abandon the trail ; another had faith that
fresh blood would have the same marvellous effect, and
so on through the whole range of men who had been
near successful in escaping. On one point, however,
they all agreed, viz., that no dog could follow a man
in the water on a log, or wading, any more than he
could through the air, if flying.

While looking around in prison one day, hoping and
wishing for something to " turn up " by which I might
solve the grave question of escape, I observed an old
well, partially dug, from ten to twelve feet from the
dead line, which had been finally abandoned after dig-
ging over thirty feet without obtainmg water. Here
seemed an opening for several young men. And I
thought the matter over until satisfied that a tunnel
might be successfully completed if commenced in this
well. One of my company had his "shebang"* near
the well ; and, as he Avas a trusty, enterprising fel-
low, I laid my plans before him, and finally we deter-

* Tent, spot, or blanket, or place of residence.

ANOTHER TUNNELLING OPEEATION. 121

mined to go into the matter that night. We made a
rope from an old overcoat which he possessed, and tying
it around my waist, I was lowered into th& well about
seven feet, not without misgivings that I might travel
the other twenty-five quicker than was good for my
health, by the catastrophe of the rope's breaking, — for
shoddy is doubtful material, — or its slipping from the
weak grasp of my confederate. I scooped with a half
canteen a place big enough to sit in. The next day
my comrade borrowed a rope, for the alleged purpose
of digging the well deeper ; and that night we dug in
earnest, and made full eight feet. As daylight came
on, we stopped up the mouth of the tunnel with sticks
and mud, in such a manner that any one looking into
the well would not mistrust that there was a tmmel
being dug therein. Gradually we increased our num
bers until we had twenty men at work, all of whom we
knew could be trusted, as they belonged mostly to our
battalion. We organized four reliefs, each of which
were to dig in the tunnel two hours during the night.
This made eight hours' good labor, which, considering
that we could not commence very early at night, or
continue very late in the morning, for fear of discovery,
was doing well. The dirt excavated during the night
was tumbled into the well, and the next day we were
engaged, apparently, vnth the innocent task of digging
for water, — an almost hopeless task, — when in reality
our sole intentions were to keep the well from filling
up with the dirt excavated from the tunnel during the

122 THE soldier's story.

night, without exciting suspicion. INIany a time we
were joked while engaged digging out the well, on
tunnelling "through to China," the perpetrator of
the joke little suspecting that we really were tunnel-
ling.

Finally, after almost incredible labor, for men in our
half-starved condition, we had got a tunnel ready to
open, nearly fifty feet long, extending near thirty feet
beyond the stockade, and dug with the rude implements
we had at hand, consisting principally of half canteens
and tin quart measures, such as every soldier carries
with him to cook his coffee in. By means of our rope,
one by one, on a dark, rainy night, we got into the well
and swung into the tunnel, one ahead of the other, on
our hands and knees, as if to play leap-frog. We then
commenced to open the tunnel, which was rather a del-
icate job. We were about six feet from the surface
of the ground, and digging up into the open air at
the further extremity of the tunnel was termed " open-
ing the tunnel." This had to be performed with great
care, first, for fear of being discovered, and second,
there was danger of being smothered by the falling
earth. I had heard of one case Avhere a tunnel was
opened in the middle of a picket fire ; but it was told
that the tunnellers, nothing daunted, sprang out through
the fire ; the guard, believing their patron, the devil,
had come to visit his Confederacy, ran away, leaving the
prisoners to escape. We were not ambitious to "pass
through the fire" in any such way, and were anxious

ESCAPE AGAIN. 123

only "to be let alone." We opened our tunnel after
two hours or more of careful labor ; and I, by virtue
of having commenced the tunnel, had the privilege of
sticking my head into the outer air first, and was not
much pleased to see, sitting crouching in the rain, not a
dozen paces from our opening, an outer picket guard,
at a large fire. Had he not been so intent on keeping
comfortable, he must have seen us, as we, one by one,
crawled stealthily into the thicket near at hand. Once,
when a twig broke, he made a motion to look up, and
I thought we were " gone up ; " but he merely stirred
his fire, and resumed again his crouching position. As
the last man came out, and, at a safe distance, we stood
in whispered consultation, the hourly cry of the guard,
"Twelve o'clock, and all is well," went round the
stockade. We separated into parties of five, each to go
in different directions, and, silently grasping each part-
ing comrade's hand, we plunged into the gloomy pine
forest, to make one effort for freedom.

I had fully considered for weeks all the difficulties
of an escape. I would not venture going down the
Flint River to the Gulf on account of the river's being
picketed, and, besides, from the fact that there were
several large fortified places to pass on such a route.
Again, when we arrived at the Gulf, what were the
prospects of falling in with any of our forces ? After
considering all the different points where I might reach
our lines, I concluded there were less difficulties in the
way of reacliing Sherman's forces at Marietta than any

124 THE soldier's story.

other : the circuitous travel of one hundred and twenty
miles, under favorable circumstances, would carry us
tlu'ough. The course I had marked out was very simple.
If I tried to reach Sherman on the east side of Macon,
flanking towards the sea-shore, I had many large places
to pass, and such a course would throw us in contact
with the many marauding forage parties which would
naturally frequent that portion of the country. My
plan was to go to the westward of Macon, in a north-
westerly com'se, until the Chattahoochie River was
reached, then following due north until the blue hills
around Marietta could be seen, trust to fate and Sher-
man for deliverance.

These plans I had stated briefly to my comrades, who
had adopted them, and looked upon me as a Moses,
who was to lead them to the promised land. Travel-
ling through the woods during the night, one of my
four comrades got separated from the party. The next
morning we reached overflowed portions of country,
which indicated that we were near the Flint River.
While debating as to the best course to pursue, one of
my party declared he heard the hounds, which we soon
found was an unpleasant fact. Not a moment was to
be lost, and wading and swimming with almost frantic
exertion soon brought us to the Flint River, the cur-
rent of which, much swollen by freshets, was running
swiftly. Getting upon logs, we floated with the stream
for several hours, until we thought it sufficient to baffle
the dogs from further pursuit. It was nearly noon,

VAKIOUS PERILS. 125

when, wet and exhausted, chilled with being so long
in the water, we crawled upon the opposite shore, and
were glad to run to get up a little warmth. As we
emerged from the water, we found a sensation in the
shape of an alligator, who lay just below us, like our
floating^ logs.

That day we travelled incessantly through swamps,
and woods, and water, which overflowed all the low
portions of country. The only food which we had be-
tween us was a "pone" of johnny-cake, which we had
starved ourselves to save in the prison. We had a
pocket compass, which was intrusted to me, a small
quantity of salt, and a butcher-knife, such as was issued
to Massachusetts soldiers at Readville. Night came
upon us, dark and rainy, and found us still travelling
through the dark forest and wet swamps of the coun-
try. About twelve o'clock, seeing a bright illumina-
tion, which looked like a picket or a camp fire, just to
the right, about a quarter of a mile from us, we went
upon higher land to get an observation, and sat down
on some fallen logs to consult in whispers as to what
we had better do, about reconnoitring the light. Just
then I was certain I heard something move in the log
on which I sat. I sprang to my feet, with my club
poised to strike — perhaps it was a bear. I challenged
the log with the common expression among soldiers,
"Are you Fed or Reb?" "Yankee," came the reply;
and emerging from the log, which for the first time I
observed was hollow, came a human form, which, after

126 THE soldier's story.

shaking itself like a water spaniel, asked, in tones
strangely familiar, "Well, boys, what next?" "Going
to tie your hands, old fellow," said I, " until daylight
shows enough of you to see if you look honest."
"Well, well !" laughed our mysterious prisoner; "why,
don't you know Tonkinson ? " and sure enough it was
our missing comrade. He had escaped the hounds like
ourselves, by floating down the Flint River, and by a
singular coincidence had fallen in with us again in the
manner related : the hollow log he had selected for his
hotel for the night. As he was a sharp fellow, and had
a watch, he was quite a valuable addition to our party.
When this surprise was well over, we held once more a
consultation about the fire which had attracted our
attention, before the incident narrated occurred. We
concluded the safest and best way was to reconnoitre,
in order to ascertain the nature of our neighbors, and
see if danger was threatening us. We found it a camp
fire near a tent, at which sat a solitary picket with his
gun ; it was on a cross-road, stationed, I suppose, to in-
tercept prisoners. One of our number got near enough
to have knocked him over, had it been desirable. At
another time that night we heard voices behind us,
but concluded it was some picket tent, of wliich there
were many scattered over that part of the country.

About three o'clock that morning it stopped raining,
and we lay down together under a tree, to get such
rest as we best could. It was such lodging as we were
accustomed to, and the three middle ones had some hopes

AID FROM NEGROES. 127

of keeping warm. At daylight, stiff, and more w(!ary
than when we lay down, we resumed om- jom-ney
through the wood. Our johnny-cake was eaten, and
during the day we stopped only to pick a few berries,
which grew in the woods. We got nothing else to eat
during that day. Next day, about noon, we came upon
some cattle browsing in the woods. We killed a little
yearling heifer, one holding her by her horns whUe the
other cut her throat with our sheath-knife. We cut the
meat such as we desired and divided it among ourselves.
The skin we cut into strips, with which, and with some
of our clothes, we constructed rude haversacks, in which
to carry our meat. We had no matches, or other
method of kindling a fire, and of course ate our meat
raw, with what little salt we had to season it.

Thus, day by day, we travelled incessantly, keeping
away from the white men of the country, but receiving
help and direction from the negroes. Our first con-
fidence in negro aid was not brought about by any pre-
conceived ideas, but by accident. We discovered it
was possible to trust them, to some extent, from the fol-
lowing incident. One day we came accidentally upon
some negroes working in the woods. We ran away
quickly, thinking to get out of a bad scrape. One of
them called after us, saying, "Don't be afraid, massa
white man." Some idea that they might give us some-
thing to eat caused me to turn back. I advanced cau-
tiously, and speaking to an old, wliite-headed negro, I
said, "Uncle, I suppose you know what kind of fellows

128 THE soldiee's stoey.

we are." "Well, I reckon," he replied, rolling np the
whites of his eyes. " We are hungry, and want some-
thing to eat sadly." "Well," said uncle, "you does
look mighty kind o' lean. Step into de bushes while I
peers round to see if we've got some hoe-cake ; " and
off he trotted. We kept a good lookout to see that he
did not betray us. But he came back with three pones,
which he " 'clared to goodness " was " half they all had
for de day." It was "right smart hard times in dem
diggins." "Well, uncle," said I, "I suppose you know
that Uncle Abe is coming down this way to set you
all free when he gets the rebs licked." "Yes, yes,"
said the venerable negro, "I'se believe the day of jubilee
is comin' ; but, 'pears to me, it's a long time ; looks
like it wouldn't come in my time."

Bidding him God speed, we went on our way with
lighter hearts at the thought that there were friends in
the midst of our enemies. Some of the old neoroes we
met would shame the chivalry in jjoint of humanity and
good shrewd practical sense. One of my comrades who
had escaped for three or four days, before this time,
told me he met a negro in the woods with a gun and
dog, who told him he had lived in the swamps for
several years, defying the white man. He offered to
take him, provide for, and keep him all winter in
his hut. He refused, tliinldng to be successful in get-
ting into our lines. And I was afterwards infonned by
some rebel officers that there was a negro who, to escape
punishment, had run away from a plantation, and had

PUESUED BY BLOODHOUNDS. 129

subsisted in the swamps for a long time without being
captured.

We were entirely out of provisions on the eighth day
of our escape, and in the morning had halted in some
low land in the woods near a clearing to pick raspber-
ries, which grew in abundance. Suddenly one of our
number, noted in our travels for his quick hearing,
declared the dogs were after us. According to previous
agreement, when we were satisfied such was the case,
we separated, each running in different dii'ections to
give the dogs all the trouble we could, as possibly by
this method some might escape. Nearer and nearer
the dogs came. I jumped into a little brook which ran
along through the low land, which was not wide enough
to amount to much, as my clothes brushed the bushes
on either side. But sometliing must be done, and that
quickly. Seeing ahead of me a live oak, whose branches
overhung the brook in which I was running, I sprang
and caught the ends of the extending limbs, and with
more strength than I had supposed myself to possess,
quickly threw myself on the branch, crawled towards
the trunk, and went up near the top of the tree out of
sight, and had just got my breath when a pack of the
dogs, smelling the bushes, howling and yelping in a
fearful manner, and snuffing the air, and two men on
horses following the pack, came directly under the tree.
Suddenly dogs and men started off in another direction,
and I was not sorry to see them going. I sat in the
tree, and heard them when they captured my comrades.
9

130 THE soldier's STORY.

Another pack of dogs came around, and passed just to
the left of my tree, and I was satisfied that my tactics
had baffled them.

I had a good opportunity to observe, from my ele-
vated position, the manner in which the horses followed
the dogs. The men gave them a loose rein, and they
followed the hounds, picking their way through the
difficul; places in the wood, and neighing in a manner
which would seem to indicate that they loved the sport.
The sound of the dogs grew fainter and fainter in the
distance, until I was left in the tree to my own reflec-
tions undistm'bed. Here I was. I had been without
sufficient sleep for eight nights and days, almost con-
tinually drenched with rain. My hip was badly swollen
vdth travelling; my feet bleeding, and clothes, by con-
stant intercourse with brambles and cane-brake of the
swamps, hung in picturesque tatters around me. Chilled,
wet, and hungry, I got down from the ti-ee paralyzed
with sitting with my leg over a branch, shook myself,
hopped around to get up circulation, congratulated my-
self warmly on being rather smarter than the rest of my
crowd, and then sat down, taking out my note-book,
in wliich I had kept a kind of a log, looked at my map,
reckoned up the distance I supposed we had made per
day, and the course we had been travelling, and judged
myself from five to eight miles from the Chattahoochee
River, near West Point, below Atlanta. Taking my
course by the compass, I made a bee-line for the Chat-
tahoochee Eiver, wliich I determined should settle for-

ENCOUNTER WITH THE HOUNDS. 131

ever the question between the dogs and myself. I
afterwards ascertained that I had not varied five miles
in my calculations, which was quite a feather, I thought,
in my thinking cap.

When the dogs came upon us, it was about nine
o'clock, and when I resumed my journey, it was about
three o'clock in the afternoon. I had not the slightest
idea but that those following the dogs had abandoned
further pursuit, and thus felt easy. I had not gone
more than two miles before I heard the dogs on my
track, bellowing and yelling like wolves. In vain I
looked for a convenient method to get out of this
scrape ; but the trees were pitch-pine, and had no
branches nearer than twenty feet of the ground. In
this extremity I saw just below me a Virginia fence,
which I reached, and wrenching a stake from the fence
for a club, I drew my coat sleeve down over my left
hand, and thrust it out for the first dog which came up
to bite at. He gave one jump at my extended hand,
•and just at that time I let the stake come down upon
his ugly head in a manner which made him give one
prolonged yell, and rub his head among the leaves in a
way which seemed to take his mind from the business
in hand. The next blow embodied a compliment to
the whole pack, who had come yelling and snapping
around me ; and it laid one of them quivering just at
the time the man following the dogs hove in sight, and
sung out at the top of his voice, " Let go them thar
dogs, you Yank, and get off the fence." I saw I waa

132 THE soldier's story.

cornered, yet T did not feel like being bit up just to oblige
him. So I replied by laughing at him, at the same
time keeping the dogs off by a circular motion of my
club, remarking that I should be happy to oblige him,
but couldn't see the point of letting the dogs take a bite
apiece out of my flesh. I had noticed during this time
that he had been cocking and holding towards me a
rusty revolver, which I mistrusted, by the way he acted,
was not loaded.

After some parleying, he called the dogs off, remark-
ing, "Well, I reckon yer are kind er tuckered eout, and
I'll gin yer a httle spell at breathin' ; " at which I po-
litely thanked him. After some conversation, in which
he confessed that he'd " worn the seat of his trousers
a'most off toting around after us," I learned from him
that the dogs were put on our track about two hours
after our escape, but, owing to the rainy weather, did
not follow very fast, and were baffled for a long time at
the Flint River, but that, by taking two packs of hounds
on opposite sides of the river, they finally regained our
trail. Not knowing we had a compass, they had been
surprised at the almost bee line we had struck in the
woods of a strange country. After repeated requests
for me to '"git into the path," which I told him I had
no inclination for until rested, I finally complied.
"Wal, I'll be dod rot," said he, laughing, "you take
it as cool as though you had caught me, instead of my
catching you." He was anxious for me to go " afore "
him. I preferred, however, to walk as near him as

ATTEMPT AT STRATEGY. 133

possible, in hopes that he might get off his guard, and
I might have the pleasure of helping him from his sad-
dle by a quick lift of his leg, and thus gain a horse to
pursue my travels under more favorable circumstances.
But no such chance occurred. He informed me that
he smelt a " pretty big rat," and had his " eyes open
tight."

I was desperate, in spite of my seeming good nature,
and went on the back track with as much reluctance as
would a cat dragged by the tail over a carpet. I was
once almost in the act of seizing his foot, when he
caught my eye, and said, "No, you don't; yer needn't
try yer Yankee tricks on me." Thereafter he kept me
under range of his rusty revolver, and wouldn't allow
me to come within ten feet of him. We soon reached
the road and rejoined our comj)anions, who were waiting
at a cross-road with their captors.

I was informed, in my travels home, that the men
employed in hunting us were all men who had been de-
tailed from their regiments for that purpose. My cap-
tor, the head hunter, told me that he had dcue nothing
for eighteen years but hunt " niggers." For every es-
caping Yankee caught, he shared equally with others
thirty dollars. On excursions of the kind they some-
times killed men, but that was seldom done unless they
had whiskey in the crowd. He informed me that my
being captured was mere accident, as he had been out
to a settlement to forage for something to eat, when
returning, he had run upon my trail, and followed it

134 THE soldier's stoey.

up. His dogs were, he said, the best trained of any in
Georgia, and would follow "nothing but humans."
He used me very well indeed, and during the journey
back to the stockade shared with me the food he pur-
chased, and invited me to sit with him at table. He
also paid me a rather doubtful compliment by saying,
"If yer wer a nigger, I wouldn't take three thousand
dollars for yer."

After a long, wearisome march backward of seventy-
five miles, in which we had to keep up with horses and
mules, we arrived again at the stockade headquarters.
" Ah, py Got ! you is the tam Yankee who get away
vunce before ! " was the first salutation of Wirz ; and
then, turning to the hunter, he said, "Veil, did you
make de togs pite 'im goot?" "No," was the response.
"Veil, you must next time." "If I must, I will," said
the hunter ; and I suspect he did, for I saw several, who
were recaptured after that, frightfully bitten by the
dogs.

After taking my name and the detachment I belonged
to in prison, he turned savagely around to me and said,
"Veil, vat you tink I do mit you?" "I am in hopes,"
I replied, assuming the first position of a soldier, "you
will put a ball and chain on, and anchor me out here
somewhere where I can get fresh air." "Ah, you likes
it, toes you? Sergeant, take dis man to de stockade."
Back I went to my comrades, among whom my blanket
and some other thin2:s left behind had almost bred a
quarrel. They were quite surprised to see me, and

BACK IX PRISON. 135

were glad that I brought with me a log of pitch-
pine wood, which, through the kindness of Sergeant
Smith, I was permitted to bring into the prison. On
the whole, though my clothes were torn in shreds, and
I was scratched with briers and bitten by the dogs, my
liealth was better generally than when I left the prison.
It was not long before I was tunnelling again, with what
result will be hereafter shown.

Of those who escaped at the same time with myself,
eight were captured the first morning after their escape,
four got away some twenty miles, while the remaining
three I have never since heard from. My unsuccessful
escape gave me one advantage in prison ; it brought me
a flattering notoriety, which led to my being made a
confidant in any plans of escape formed by those who
were knowing to my adventure. I was sure to be posted
in all tunnelling going on, and therefore, in my opin-
ion, increasing thereby my chances for successful es-
cape.

136 THE soldier's story.

CHAPTER VII.

Increase of Prisoners, generally destitute. — Greater Suffering from
no previous Preparation. — Sad Cases of Deaths. — Rations growing
worse. — Bad Cooking and Mixtures of Food. — Almost untold
Misery. — Dying amid Filth and Wretchedness. — Preparing Bod-
ies for Burial. — Horrible and Disgusting Scenes. — Increased
Mortality. — Rebel Surgeons alarmed for their own Safety. — San-
itary Measures undertaken. — Soon abandoned. — Scanty Supply
of Medicines. — Advantages of a Shower-bath. — Gathering up the
Dead. — Strategy to get outside the Prison as Stretcher-bearers. —
Betrayal by supposed Spies. — Horrors at the Prison Gate in the
Distribution of Medicines. — The Sick and Dying crowded and
trampled upon. — Hundreds died uncared for. — Brutality in car-
rying away the Dead. — The same Carts used for the Dead Bodies
and in carrying Food to the Prison.

DURING July prisoners continued to come into
prison at the rate of about one thousand per week.
These, with few exceptions, had previously been stripped
of their overcoats and blankets, and, in many instances,
had neither shoes, stockings, nor jackets — nothing but
shirt and pantaloons to cover their nakedness. Num-
bers of the inmates of the prison had been prisoners at
Belle Island, and various other rebel prisons, for a year
or more, and of course in that time had got no additions
to their wardrobe, except such as their ingenuity could
devise. It was common to see prisoners without hat,

GREAT SUFFERLNG. 137

sliirt, shoes, or pantaloons, their only covering being a
pair of drawers. In this manner men became so burned
by exposure to the sun, that their skins seemed tanned
almost the color of sole-leather. The great mass who
came into prison at this time had none of the advantages
arising from gradual initiation, but were plunged into
the depths of prison misery at once. Without the ad-
vantages of experience, with limited means of comfort,
they were thrown into prison to struggle and sicken
despondently, and die. Some twenty of my company
died during the month. B. W. Drake, a lad about
eighteen years of age, was a victim to despondency and
starvation. His delicate appetite rejected the coarse,
unsalted, unpalatable food of the prison. Without
any particular disease, he wasted away to a mere skel-
eton, and finally died. Sergeant Kendal Pearson, of
my company, also one of my mess, died during the
month. He had been accustomed for many years to
the moderate use of stimulating drinks. In prison, cut
off from these, and with no proper nourishing food to
take their place, he continually craved and thought of
such things. In their place he would sometimes get a
few red peppers, and make from them a hot drink, which
seemed for a while to revive life and ambition within
him ; but gradually his strength grew fainter and more
feeble, till he died.

In this manner they dropped off all over the prison ;
and one day you would see a man cooking his food, the
next day he would be dead. The eighty-fifth New York,

138 THE soldier's story.

who, it will be recollected, came into prison fit the
same time with ourselves, was reduced in number by
death over one half. Our rations continually grew
worse, instead of better. For some of the last detach-
ments formed in the prison, rice and beans were cooked,
and in the change around from cooked to uncooked
food, occasionally other detachments got the same ; but
the food thus cooked was often fearfully dirty, caused
by the beans and rice never being cleaned before cook-
ing, and from the flies which gathered on and m all
descriptions of eatables at that time of the year. The
rebels said that iron wire Avas so scarce that they
could not get it to construct sieves to cleanse the rice
and beans. Had they possessed a particle of ingenuity
or forethouglit, they might have winnowed them in the
wind. The simple reason seemed to be for so great
admixture of dirt, that they neidier cared nor thought
the matter worth looking after.

The whole prison was now a scene of misery which
words cannot express, and which never was before, or
ever again will be seen. At night you are awakened,
your companion and friend d3'ing by your side, his last
words of pathetic entreaty for food. " Don't tell mother
how I died," said a dying comrade to me ; "it would break
her heart to know what I had suffered. I am glad she
cannot see how dreadful I look, she always loved to see
me so clean." " Wash my hands and face," said an-
other of my comrades, when he knew he must die ; "I
cannot bear to die dirty ; " and as I washed his wan,

STAEVATION, 139

pinched face, and browned, thin hands, he smiled,
spoke the name "mother," and died. His sensitive
nature had ever shrunk from the vermin, filth, and dirt
of the prison, so contrary to his habits of cleanliness
and gentle breeding — he was anxious once more to be
clean and die. Sad death-beds were all around. On
the damp, hard ground, many a mother's darling, many
a father's proud hope, breathed away a life which
shut the light from some household — in some heart
left sad throbbings. I am glad that no mother knows
all the particulars of the miserable life, that preceded
death in prison. I have been questioned by many
mothers, who have lost a dear boy at Andersonville.
If I seemed uncommunicative, and did not desire to
Cvmverse with them, and shoidd these pages meet their
eyes, let them be assured it was not because I did not
sympathize with them, or that my heart was not full,
but because I could not bear to pierce their hearts by
detailing misery which would only bring them keener
pangs of sorrow.

There comes to my vision now, sitting in the soft
twilight of this evening, listening to the village church
bells, the form of one who died — miserably starved — at
Anderson ville. When I first made his acquaintance,
he was a clerk at headquarters of our commanding
general. In prison our acquaintance ripened into
friendship, which ended only with death. I never can
forget how fond his accents were when he spoke, as he
often did to me, of his village home ; described the

140 THE soldier's STORY.

winding slopes around the river's side, where he passed
on his way to school or church ; and, " Sarg," said he,
while liis intelligent eye would fire up with softened
light, in which were mingled shadows of regret, "if it
should please God to deliver me out of this misery, 1
would try and do nearer as mother wished me." He
told me how in the lonfj winter evening's he read to
her while she peeled the red-cheeked apples before a
blazing fire ; and then he would exclaim, " What a con-
trast to this scene ! " Again he would look around him,
and say, in those far-off, dreamy, dreary tones often
heard in prison, " I wish I had the scraps she throws to
our dog and chickens," or "I wish I had the straw and
house our pig gets." When he died, his last, faint
words were, as he placed his well-worn Bible in my
hand, "I shall not be needing this, or anything to eat,
much longer. I have tried to live by that book ; take
it — may it prove to you, as it has to me, a last solace
when every earthly hope has passed away."

I opened the book, and read in low, hushed tones from
Psalm xxxiv. ; and when I concluded the last verse,
" The Lord redeemeth the soul of his servants ; and
none of them that trust in Him shall be desolate," he
looked up, saying nothing, but with a smile of gladness,
as though that trusting spirit was his. Shortly after he
became delirious, and died that afternoon — one more
victim to Anderson ville.

The common mode of preparing bodies for the grave
was by tying their two large toes together, and folding

INCREASED MORTALITY. 141

tlieir hands one over the other. If the deceased had a
hat, not needed by others, — which was seklom the
case, — it was placed upon his face; otherwise the
shrivelled cheeks, the unclosed eyes, and drooping jaw,
as they were carried tlu'ough the prison, presented a
pitiable sight, which I will not enlarge upon.

It was when death became common as life ; when the
prison, reeking with deathly vapors, was crowded to suf-
focation with living victims ; when, side by side with
life, death walked with the prisoner, — it was then that
inhumanity shuddered at its own cruel malice. Even
rebel surgeons, accustomed to seeing all our sufferings,
protested at last, and uttered complaints to the authori-
ties, which will bear out all the statements ever made
of Andersonville suffering. Under the influence of
protests from various rebel sources, men were set at
work to enlarge the stockade, and again an effort was
made to fill in the cesspools of the prison ; but these
efforts to relieve our pitiful condition never seemed to
be made in earnest, but were rather the result of fear
that disease would spread into their own ranks outside
the prison. These efforts, too, were soon abandoned,
and matters relapsed into their old condition, growing
worse and worse. " If Yellow Jack gets into this here
place," said the rebel quartermaster to some of us, "it
won't leave a grease spot on yer ; and I can't say there'll
be many left if he don't."

Medicines were issued in scanty quantities for a while,
m July and August, but they seemed generally a played-

142 THE soldier's story.

out commodity in the Southern Confederacy. They
were variously crude in kind, and small in quantity.
Bloodroot was used as an astringent ; sumac berries
were the only acid given for scurvy ; blackberry root
was given as a medicine for diarrhoea, and camphor pills
were the standard medicine for various diseases. Per-
sonally I cared for none of these, as I ever placed but
little faith in nostrums ; but thousands of wretches, in
hopes of prolonging life a little longer, crawled, and
were carried, to the prison entrance where medicines
were issued. "The best medicine, after all," remarked
a rebel surgeon, one day, " for these wretches, is food ;"
and it was but little use to doctor starvation with herbs.
But wholesome, nutritious food was more difficult to be
obtained in prison than medicines, scarce as they were.
I found one of the most efficacious remedies for the
indescribable languor and weakness which result from
insufficient food and scurvy to be cold-water shower-
baths, taken morning, evening, and at noon. I usually
showered myself by pouring cold water from my tin
pail over my head and person while standing. Be-
sides contributing to personal cleanliness, it had an
agreeable, energizing action, without any of the depress-
ing after effects produced by stimulating drinks. I do
not think its influence in preserving life, in my case, can
be much overstated. I practised daily bathing through
all my imprisonment ; and though sometimes the disposi-
tion induced by weakness and languor was greatly
against exercise, yet I knew, from what I had seen, that

SCARCITY OF WOOD. 143

I must not give way if I hoped to live. Sometimes it
seemed impossible for me to get to the " branch " to
wash, and the water was often so filthy that it was not
agreeable to use it even for bathing. Yet I always
forced myself to creep to the brook and take a shower-
bath. The effects were instantaneous, and sometimes
seemed marvellous. I could always walk briskly back
again up hill, and feel like a different man.

Looking back over the past, I can hardly imagine
how I managed to live from day to day. Wood was
so scarce that it was almost impossible to cook our food
when it was issued raw, — as it was most of the time,
in about half of the squads of the prison, who were sup-
posed to have cooking apparatus. Every remaining
root, where trees had been, was dug out with the rude
implements of the prison. Every stump had claimants,
who dug around it, and protected their rights from in-
vasions by force. This, for men in our condition, was
hard and wearisome work, as our implements were
mostly inadequate to the task, under favorable circum-
stances, for stronger men. The stump and roots, after
they were dug out, were cut up into small bits of three
or four inches length and one inch thickness, — some-
times in more minute pieces, — by means of a jackknife,
and often with merely a piece of blade without a han-
dle. Occasionally an axe would be smuggled into
prison by some mysterious means, and its possessor be-
came a kind of prince, who levied tax upon all the sur-
rounding miserables who required its use.

144 THE soldier's story.

The dead were gathered up by detachments of pris-
oners, and laid in rows outside the stockade. In order
to get wood, there was great competition to fill the office
of stretcher-bearer, as there was sometimes a chance for
such to pick up wood on their return. Hence it passed
into a saying, "I swapped off a dead man for some
wood." A stretcher was made for carrying the sick
and dead by fastening a blanket to two poles, provided
for the purpose, and then rolling up the blanket on the
poles until about the width of those of tlie ordinary
construction. As I have elsewhere instanced in these
pages, sometimes men feigned to be dead, and were
carried out by their comrades, each of the parties de-
riving advantage by the operation. Another sharp
practice was, for four to carry out a dead man and only
two return with the stretcher, which gave two a chance
for escape and wood to the remaining ; thus conferring
mutual benefits. Nothino- of this kind could be of Ioug:
duration in practice, for by some method the Johnnies
soon became posted in all our dodges. It was said, I
know not with how much truth, every batch of prison-
ers sent into the " pen " were accompanied by a spy iu
U. S. blue, whom the others naturally trusted as a com-
rade. He found out all the secrets of the squad and
reported them to Wirz. This, doubtless, will account
for much seeming treachery among our own men. It
does not seem possible that any amount of misery could
induce comrades to betray one another, even for food.
I class traitors as follows : First, bounty jumpers ;

HOREOES OF THE PRISON. 145

second, enlisted prison convicts ; third, men who dug
tunnels for the purpose of discovering them to the reb-
els, gaining thereby an extra ration ; fourth, spies sent
in by the authorities.

Inside the stockade, near the gate, was often the
scene of wildest hoiTor. Here would be gathered to-
gether in the morning, waiting to pass out the gate to
booths where medicmes were distributed, the sick, creep-
ing, often, upon their hands and knees, and those too
sick to creep borne by feeble, staggering companions.
Here, also, would be gathered the stretcher-bearers with
their burdens of dead ; all waiting, in a densely-packed
throng of thousands, often in the rain, or sultry tropical
sun, where not a breath of air stirred to revive the faint-
ing. It was a rule, that no one, however sick, could
be prescribed for or receive medicine unless first carried
to the doctor. As it could never be ascertained on what
day or hour medicines were given, day after day these
suffering thousands would be turned away without med-
icines, after waitin": for hours throu2:h the intense heat
of the meridian sun. Often the sick, abandoned by
those who carried them, would be left near the gate-
way, in the intense heat, where no air could reach them,
and thus uncared for, die. This arose not so much from
the want of feeling of comrades as from their inabihty
to care for them. Those who bore stretchers often fell
fainting, and died in that throng of waiting misery.
One day, in July, twenty men died in less than four
10

146 THE soldier's story.

hours among the crowd of dead and dynig around the
prison gate.

The numbers who went to the hospital outside con-e-
sponded with the numbers who died there daily. A
police force of the prison dictated, with chibs, who were
to pass first through the gate. The dead took the
preference, followed by the sick on stretchers. Few
of this throng got medicines. A great mass of the
sick, rather than suffer the jamming and crowding, and
rather than witness these dc})rcssing scenes of horror,
remained, without trying to obtain what they came for ;
since, to pass through this truly horrible ordeal, to go
through or stand among this crowd of dead, sick, and
dying, Mas worse than the sulFcring it was intended to
alleviate. I eonsidered myself rather a tough specimen
of a prisoner, but, after waiting, without success, for
four successive mornings, to get out a conu'nde, I be-
came confident, if I ])ersisted, I should be "carried out
with my toes tied together" (which, in prison language,
meant dead). Imagine two or three thousand men
struggling, suffering, crowding together, to get through
the gate, — all forms of death, disease, and sickness
crowded and jammed together. Here the dead were
crowding and jostling against the sick, ajid the sick,
in their turn, jostling against and overtiu-ning the dead
and dying.

From first to last, the system of dispensing medicines
was productive of more suffering than it icllevcd. At
such gatherings the stench arising from the dead and

DISREGARD OF THE DYING. 147

dying was dreadful enouoh to ninko well men sick ;
while the sight of men sick and dying, under the cir-
cumstances described, was sufficient to depress the
strongest heart with terror. The wan, pinched, famine-
stricken, dirt-clotted countenance of the poor suflerers,
the disgusting spectacle of dead men with unclosed eyes
and drooping jaw, the eyes and face swarming with
vermin, combined to make the scene one of the most
intense horror ever gazed upon by mortal eyes. One
of my battalion, a piivatc in (-omi)any G, was carried
for two successive mornings to this gathering, and on
the third died, lying in the hot sun, without an eilort
being made by the surgeons and attendants to obtain
shelter for him. Hundreds <lic'd in this uncared-for
manner, which was of too fre<(ucnt occurrence to bo
noticed or noted. One would naturally sup[)ose such
spectacles enough to excite in hardened hearts emotions
of pity and remorse ; but the chivalry gazed upon these
daily, unmoved, often remarking upon them, "Good
enough for the danuied Yanks." Neither were the
dead and dying exempt from their abuse. J have
seen a dying man rudely tumbled from (lie sticlcJicr
on which he lay, without the slightest hee(l bcini; given
to his pleading entreaties for })ity.

On one of the mornings when I was carrying the
sick, I saw an emaciated, sick man u[)<)n a str(!tcher;
his shrunken face and hands were covered with filth,
and begrimed with the pitch-] )Ine smoke of the prison ;
he had no clothing upon his wasted body save a pair

148 THE soldier's story.

of army drawers, which had once been white ; other-
wise diarrhoea had rendered his condition too dreadful
to be described to ears polite, or even to be gazed upon.
One of the prison officers at that time crowded through
the throng of the sick and the dead : while doing so,
he forcibly pushed against this poor creature, who was
uttering plaintive moans and cries for mercy, to which
no heed was given. In the scramble which followed,
the dying man was overturned, and, as he lay gasping
in his last trembling agonies, the same officer or at-
tendant passed again that way, and rudely thrust him
with his foot from his path, saying, " One more Yank's
gone to the devil." Sitting this evening before the
crackling blaze of a New England's Avinter fire, and
cheered by civilized comforts, I cannot repress a chill
of horror and cree^Ding sensations of shivering terror at
its mere remembrance.

Such occurrences were too much a " matter of course "
to be noticed, and I only instance this solitary, unknown
dying man, among the suffi^ring thousands of the prison
pen, as an example of the fiendish hate and malice
which pursued these patriots of the Union even when
the doors of death were closed upon their starved,
unburied forms !

Carrying away the dead to their final rest was but a
horror in keeping with the scenes described, and a
fitting climax to the life of misery which ended in the
prison. The dead that gathered during the day were
placed in what was known as tlie dead house, — a rude

TREATMENT OF THE DEAD. 149

shed frame, covered with bushes. From thence, each
morning, they were taken, thrown upon a cart drawn
by three mules, with a negro driver seated upon the
middle one, over the ungraded field to the place of
interment. The bodies were usually thrown, one upon
the other, as high as could be reached ; often the head,
shoulders, and arms of one or more of the bodies pro-
trudins: over the side and from the rear of the cart, or
from under the dead piled above them, — the dropping
jaw, the swaying head, undulating with each motion
of the cart, the whole mass of bodies jolting and sway-
ing, as a comrade expressed it, " like so much soft
soap." It was said that from these carts maggots and
vermin of various kinds could be scooped, after such an
excursion, by the handful. In these same carts our
rations were brought to us, shovelled in where the
dead bodies had lain ; and with flies, which gather, in
a climate like Georgia, upon all eatables exposed, gave
us food, when cooked, well mixed with everything
which could be offensive and disagreeable. Death
in prison, under such circumstances, was not always
looked forward to with loathing or terror, — not always
preceded by acute, though always with great suffering,
— but was often hailed with tearful, trembling joy, as
a message of freedom spoken to imprisoned men.

150 THE soldier's STORY.

CHAPTER VIII.

Robberies in Prison. — Means taken to punish such Acts. — A Char-
acter. — Big Peter, a Canadian. — His Administration of Justice
on Offenders. — Becomes a Ruling Power. — Missing Men and
Rebel Vengeance. — Murders of Prisoners by Thieves. — A Police
Force organized. — Courts established. — Trials of accused Mur-
derers.— Conviction and Execution. — The Gang of Murderers,
Tliieves, and Bounty Jumpers broken up. — A Slight Tribute to
Wirz, as only the Tool of Others. — Character of the Prison
Police. — Not all Good Effects. — A Terror to the Good as well
as Bad. — Sometimes the Instruments of Rebels.

FROM the time we arrived in prison we were con-
tinually troubled and annoyed by having our .
scanty clothes, blankets, and cooking utensils stolen
from us. There were so many temptations, and so few
restrictions thrown in the way of the perpetration of
theft, that it became an evil, at last, that must be
checked. Stealing blankets from boys unaccustomed
to hardships was downright murder ; for, if no one
extended the corner of his blanket to protect the
unfortunate from the chill dews of evening and from
the frequent rains, deprived thus suddenly, he was sure
to sicken and die. Stealing cooking utensils reduced
unfortunates, thus deprived, to the necessity often of
eating their scanty rations without cooking, or of steal-

PUNISHMENT OF ROBBEES. 151

ing or begging from others. Begging was as much out
of fashion and good standing in prison as a,ny place.

It was rumored around camp, from time to time, that
raiders and flankers were organized for the perpetration
of outrages, and of protecting themselves against the
punishment of such acts. Although there was no defi-
nite organization among us, it was agreed upon that
these villains should be promptly dealt Avith ; that when
any of the Plymouth prisoners could identify a "raider,"
or was attacked or robbed by one of them, he was to
call out loudly " Plymouth ! " when every one of the
boys within hearing were to turn out to his assistance.
In accordance with this agreement, we heard one morn-
ing the rallying cry, and captured a fellow who was
caught in the act of stealing a blanket. The boys gath-
ered around him, not knowing what to do with the
Tartar now that they had caught one. He sat gnash-
ing his teeth, threatening his captors with the vengeance
of a band, which he said was formed for mutual thiev-
ing, if they should injure or inflict punishment upon
him. Feeling some reluctance to proceeding against
him, they were about to release him without punish-
ment, otherwise than a few kicks, when a corporal of
Company G, second Massachusetts heavy artillery, fa-
miliarly known in prison as " Big Peter," came into the
crowd, and taking the raider fearlessly in hand, inflicted
summary punishment upon him by shaving half of his
head and face, giving no heed to the desperado's savage
gnashing of teeth and threats of vengeance, except to

153 THE soldier's story.

thump his head at each beginning and repetition of
them. After dealing out justice in this off-hand man-
ner, and an administrative reminder (in the rear) from
a pair of tlie heaviest of cowhides, the thief was released,
with admonitions to sin no more.

This, I believe, was the first instance of formal pun-
ishment for such misdemeanors ; and thereafter Big Pete,
by virtue of these services, became the terror of evil-
doers. Pete exhibited so much coui'age at this time,
and subsequently so much good sense and natural judg-
ment, that he gradually became the administrative
power for the punishment of offences committed. He
performed for \is the services of shaving, and in a digni-
fied, impartial manner gave the culprit a trial, — hearing
the statements of both sides before pronouncing judg-
ment and inflicting punishment, both of which, however,
were often condensed into the last act. Few exceptions
were taken to his rulings, for who could object to the
persuasive arguments of one who wore such heavy
boots ?

The incident narrated was the beginning of a power
in camp to punish offenders, which finally provided us
with an effective police organization. Pete w^as an
uneducated Canadian — a man of gigantic stature and
great physical strength, of an indomitable will, great
good nature, and with innate ideas of justice, in the
carrying out of which, he was as inflexible as iron. A
blow from his fist was like that from a sledge-hammer,
and from first to last he maintained so great a supremacy

MURDERS IN PRISON. 153

in camp, that no description of the prison at that time
would be complete without a sketch of him. His trials
were often intensely grotesque and amusing to specta-
tors, but not generally so to the culprit. I took pains
to follow some of his trials, and I must say, in justice, I
never knew him to make a wrong decision, though
baffled in his purpose by ingenious lies. Through all
the intricate lies, he had a talent for detecting them
and sifting out the truth. Thus, at last, by common
consent, if any one had complaints to make, he carried
them to the " shebang " of Big Peter. He either went
himself, or sent some of his adherents, who returned
with the accused ; witnesses were then summoned and
punishments dispensed. Justice was being dealt out in
this manner, when one morning it was announced —
and to our sorrow we found it carried into practice —
that our rations were to be stopped on account of men
being missing from the stockade — supposed by the rebel
authorities to have escaped by means of tunnels. In-
vestigation led to no new discoveries, and after twenty-
four hours' extra starvation, they were again issued as
before, it being impossible to discover the missing men,
or any modes by which they could have escaped.

About this time, the raiders, under the leadership of
one Mosby, became exceedingly bold, attacked new
comers in open daylight, robbing them of blankets,
watches, money, and other property of value. Rumors
of frightful import were circulated through the camp of
men murdered for their blankets and money. After

154 THE soldier's story.

this, more men were missing at the morning roll-call,
of whom there could be no reasonable account given.
Under Big Peter a company was organized, armed
with clubs, who proceeded to the shelter formerly
occupied by the missing men. Inquii'ies being made
among those who were li\dng near, no information
could be obtained, othenvise than the fact that outcries
were heard during the night, and that there was a
scuflfle near ; but scenes of disorder being common
during the night, they had taken but little notice of
them, since, as peaceable men, they wislied to avoid all
wrangling. Notlung at first could be found, in the
shelter formerly occujaied by these men, to excite sus-
picion. Most of the crowd had dispersed, when one of
the men, on his hands and knees at the entrance, looking
down into the grave-like hole which formed the princi-
pal part of the abandoned dwelling-place, saw a piece
of blue cloth, partially covered with dirt. Seeing in
this the element of a patch for the repairing of his
shattered wardrobe, he pulled at it, and found it fas-
tened in the ground. This excited his curiosity, also Ids
desh'e for possession ; and he began to dig and puU,
until further progress was arrested, and lie started back
with horror at the imexpected appearance of a human
hand. A crowd gathered around, and speedily a dead
man was unearthed, whose throat had been cut in a
shocking manner, and his head bruised by a terribhj
blow. In the same space, beneath liim, was found
another victim, with his throat cut. The news of these

POLICE FORCES ORGANIZED. 155

horrible murders spread tlirougli the prison, as if by
telegi'aph, and a large crowd soon assembled around the
scene of these atrocities. The police proceeded to the
shelter of several notorious thieves and bad characters
of the prison, and arrested them. Through information,
or clew gained of one of these, they were induced to dig
in the shelter of some of those arrested, which resulted
m the discovery of money, watches, cS;c., in many cases
identified as the property of the murdered men.

Kapidly after the perpetration of these cold-blooded
atrocities, strong police forces were formed under
Big Peter as chief of police. Afterwards a judge-
ship was established in prison, and there were two
regular practising attorneys, who took fees of Indian
meal, beans, and small currency in payment for services
rendered; and sometimes, it was said, bribed the judge
and chief of police. In the case of Staunton, a big brute,
and tool of the rebels, who killed a man, as mentioned
in preceding pages, it was rumored that his money,
procured by dicker with prisoners, obtained him a mild
sentence and punishment. Not to digress further, the
supposed murderers, some fifteen in number, were
arrested, and after gaining suflficient evidence, consent
was obtained of the prison authorities for their trial.
Besides this was obtained the privilege of conducting
the trial under guard, in a building outside the prison.
The accused were also held in custody through the
kindness of Wirz, the commandant. A jury of men
was empanelled, composed of prisoners just captured,

156 THE soldier's story.

who had never been in the prison, and who, therefore,
could not have formed prejudices on either side. The
trial lasted through a number of weeks. Competent
men were ajipointed to defend the prisoners by the
authorities. An able lawyer, an officer of the rebel
g lard, conducted the defence, afterwards stating to me
that he had no doubt of the guilt of those who suiFered
punishment. The prosecution was conducted by men
selected from among the prisoners. Six of these men
were pronounced by a jury guilty of murder.

On the 12th of the month, Captain Wirz, accom-
panied by a guard, brought the prisoners into the stock-
ade, where, on the south side, near the gate, and the
scene of the murder, a gallows had been erected. Here
he turned the offenders over to the prison police, Avith a
short speech, in which he stated that they had been
impartially tried and found guilty of atrocious murders,
and that he left their punishment in the hands of the
prisoners of the stockade. He then turned, and fol-
lowed by liis guai*d, left the prison. The police formed,
in two ranks, a hollow square around the gallows ;
the 1 jpes were arranged, and the guilty men ascended
the scaffold steps. Up to this time the murderers did
not seem to view the proceedings in a serious light,
but rather as a joke. Leave was then given for them
to speak, which they did, protesting their innocence,
one or two calling upon their companions to do their
duty, which, properly interpreted, meant that they
wished to be rescued from the police. The ropes were

EXECUTION OF MUEDEKERS. 157

adjusted about their necks, the bags were drawn over
theu* faces, their hands pinioned, a hushed silence
reigned in the camp, the drop fell, and five of the
prisoners hung by their necks, swaying in the air; the
sixth, nearest to the prison gate, sprang at the time, or
before the drop fell, broke the rope about his neck,
gained his feet, forced his way through the police and
crowd, cleared his hands, ran swiftly, was pursued,
beaten over the head, and recaptured, when the rope
M^as again adjusted, his protestations of innocence were
unheeded, and he was pushed from the drop, and hung
with his comrades in guilt. Thus ended the lesson of
retribution that put a stop to murders in prison, and
broke up a gang of bounty-jumping desperadoes.

Let me here record, in justice to a man who has
since met a similar fate, in retribution for crimes com-
mitted against Union prisoners, that I and many others
of the prison were grateful to Henry Wirz for the
privilege afforded us, to enable us to give the accused a
fair, impartial trial. I have purposely avoided, in these
pages, heaping unnecessary odium upon the head of
one who, though guilty, I have good reasons to suppose
was only the executive of a system devised by men
liigh in rebel authority, and from whose orders no
inferior could deviate. There never was a hanging
conducted in a more orderly manner. There was no
clamor of voices, but in silence and decorum befitting
such a scene, thirty thousand men were its witnesses.
Thenceforward raiding and flanking were of rare oc-

158 THE soldier's story.

currence, and the police became one of the establish
ments of the prison. That the police did much to punish
offenders and preserve order, cannot be denied. They
were mostly of the class denominated "roughs," selected
for their physical rather than mental qualifications, and
in some instances became a greater evil than that
which they were instituted to correct. They levied
tax upon all trading stands and occupations in the
prison, cudgelled men over the head for small faults,
and whipped them upon the bare back, with a cat of
nine tails, most of whom, however, deserved the pun-
ishments inflicted. Yet they would not tolerate any in-
justice done by others than themselves, unless they were
well paid for not arresting offenders. Reserving to
themselves the right (?) of doing injustice and com-
mitting abuses, they governed the camp and corrected
all other abuses but their own.

I am sorry to record, that in the Florence (S. C.)
military prison, when S. was acting chief of police,
this kind of police force became for a while degraded
tools in the hands of the rebels, and whipped men at
their command upon the bare back for digging tunnels,
&c., for wliich dirty service they were rewarded with
extra rations. I have entered thus particularly into
details which were needful that the general reader
should have, that he may realize in some degree the
position of a prisoner at Anderson ville, and to show that
anything originally devised for our welfare might be
perverted to our misery.

NEGRO PRISONERS. 150

CHAPTER IX.

Negro Prisoners. — Barbarous Amputations. — None but the Wounded
made Prisoners. — Their cleanly Habits. — Treatment. — Major
Bogle. — Bad Treatment of him as an Officer of Negro Troops. —
A Misunderstanding. — Andersonville a Prison for Privates, and
not Officers. — A great Project to break from Prison. — Two Thou-
sand engaged in it. — The Project betrayed when nearly com-
pleted. — Despondency at the Result. — Courage renewed prov-
identially. — Addition to the Stockade. — Much short Comfort from
the Enlargement. — A new Stock of Fuel soon exhausted. — Dis-
honorable Offers to Prisoners generally spurned by starving Men. —
Fidelity under extraordinary Circumstances. — Instances cited. —
Heroic Men. — New Methods of Operation. — These also spurned.
— Various E\'idences of Devotion to Country.

T was in July that I first noticed negro prisoners
among us, though they were, doubtless, there pre-
vious to that time. Scarcely any of them but were
victims of atrocious amputations performed by rebel
surgeons. It was said that none of the prisoners were
captured except the wounded. Those in the prison
were mostly New England men. Some of them had
been captured at the charge on Fort Wagner, when
Colonel Shaw was killed, and at the battle of Olustee,
Florida. I observed in the negro prisoners a commen-
dable trait of cleanliness. Indeed, I may safely say,
their clothes were, on an average, cleaner and better

160 THE soldier's STORY.

patched than those of other prisoners of the stockade.
Through exposure to the sun and ram, they were much
blacker than the common southern negroes, and many
were the exclamations of surprise among the guard at
this fact. "The blackest niggers I ever saw," was the
common expression on seeing them. I have said the
negroes were mostly wounded and mutdated ; when
there had been a case of amputation, it had been per-
formed in such a manner as to twist and distort the limb
out of shape. When a negro was placed in a squad
among white men, it was usually accompanied with the
injunction, addressed to the sergeant of the squad,
" ]\Iake the d — d nigger work for and wait upon you : if
he does not, lick him, or report liim to me, and I will."
I never knew an instance, however, where a sergeant
required of the black any service not usually allotted to
others, and that in drawing and distributing rations.

Understanding that there was a major of colored
troops in prison, I hunted him up, and found ]Major
Archibald Bogle, who was formerly, I believe, a Lieu-
tenant in the 17th Mass. infantry. He was captured at
Olustee, after being severely wounded in several pla(!es.
He informed me that he formerly lived in Melrose,
Mass. Since he came into the pen, he had been re-
fused all medical and surgical treatment, though the
prisoners detailed as hospital stewards had covertly
afforded him aid, and dressed his wounds. He wore
his uniform, and freely declared himself an officer of
negro troops — a fact which all officers of negroes were

OFFICERS OF COLORED SOLDIERS. 161

not willing to own, by reason of the hard treatment
received therefor from the rebels. His was an instance
of the fact that a true gentleman remains the same
amidst the most squalid misery and accumulated misfor-
tunes. His intercourse with others was dignified, cour-
teous, and urbane, as if in command of his regiment.
There were many in prison, as there always has been
in our army, who professed to despise negro troops,
and have a contempt for their officers. Major Bogle
was, at one time, I was informed, compelled to mess
with his negroes ; yet he always maintained his gentle-
manly bearing and his self-respect, and commanded the
respect of others amid all the accumulated misery of the
"prison pen." Such were my impressions of Major
Bogle.

Many loose statements have been made in print indi-
cating that officers were as common among prisoners
at Andersonville as enlisted men. With the exception
of Major Bogle, there were no commissioned officers
intentionally placed in Andersonville. Others were
there by their own act ; but the prison was intended for
enlisted men only. At any time an officer of white
troops could be sent to Macon, or some other officers'
prison, by merely making a plain statement of facts
which looked plausible. So much is required to be
said, as there seems to be a great misunderstanding in
relation to this matter ; and it is my desire to write
such a description of the prison that those who were
prisoners at the time with myself will be the ones most
11

162 THE soldier's stort.

ready to testify to the truth of these pictures, crudely
drawn with pen and ink. Major Bogle, at one time,
was engaged in a tunnelling operation, in which he
plotted to release all the prisoners of the stockade. It
failed through the treason of some one in the secret,
though it came near being a success. About the time
I became acquainted with him, an extensive plot was
formed to break the stockade. Over two thousand men
were pledged to risk their lives upon an effort to liber-
ate the prisoners of the stockade. Here seemed the
choice before us, to die without an effort, amid all the
misery of the prison pen, or to die with our hands up-
lifted to strike one blow at our enemies, before death,
in an attempt to liberate ourselves and starving com-
rades. To no reasonable man did there appear at that
time to be any hope for life but in that manner. I
went into the project, I am willing to confess at this
day, having full confidence in our ability to achieve the
desired result, and with a feeling that it was better to
die in such an attempt than to die a miserable, loath-
some death by gradual starvation.

Acting in concert, we set ourselves at work, and dug
tunnels up to the stockade ; then the tunnel branched
off at right angles, running parallel with the stockade,
a shoulder of earth being left as a temporary support,
so that when a rush was made against the walls from
the outside, it would be thrown down in the places thus
mined. In this manner three portions of the stockade
walls were undermined — at least, I have reason to

A DESPERATE PLOT TO ESCAPE. 163

suppose so, although I was engaged in digging and en-
gineering on but one of them. Our plans were as
follows : One detachment of prisoners was to break
tlu'ough on the south side, near the gate, and capture
the reserve of the guard ; another to break through on
the north side, and, making a circuit of the stockade,
capture the guard thereon ; another party, breaking
through on the south-west side, near the gate, was to
capture the rebel artillery near headquarters, and use it
according to circumstances, and make such capture of
rebel officers as was possible ; while prisoners outside,
under detail, were to cut the telegraph wires. This
achieved, prisoners were to be liberated, rations equally
distributed, the cars seized, ammunition and arms placed
in the hands of " the organization," and then, raiding
through the rebel country, seize upon horses and other
modes of transportation, and effect an escape to the
Gulf. Such were our plans generally.

All was pronounced ready for the grand assault, and
we were waiting with trembling expectancy, when a
proclamation was read in prison, and posted in conspic-
uous places, stating that such a plan was known to be
organized, and the commandant of the prison had full
knowledge of all its details, even to the names of those
concerned ; and that, if we persisted in carrying it out,
there would be great bloodshed, which he wished to
avert. Such, in substance, was a proclamation signed
by Henry Wirz. We had been betrayed by one who,
we supposed, from every motive of interest, would keep

164 THE soldier's story.

the secret. Artillery was posted at various points, with
men in position to use it : twice shots were fired over
the heads of prisoners in crowds, while white flags were
j)laced all over the prison, as ranges for their artillerists.
Thus ended the best-conceived plan for liberating the
j)risoners en masse during my imprisonment, and proved
the assertion frequently made among the Kentucky
boys, that "Everything in the Confederacy was dreflTul
onsartain, and liable to bust."

After the repeated failure of long-cherished and hard-
worked plans, which were to give liberty or death to
the projectors, for once I became despondent and doubt-
ing, falling away from faith in ever getting out of prison
otherwise than by dying. Dark clouds of despau*
gathered around me, and followed my feeble footsteps.
Though I knew I was bringing ujson myself the very
fate I had been so long trying to avert ; knew that
such moods were productive of none but evil to him
who entertained them ; yet, for a time, it seemed im-
possible for me to rally from or shake them off. In this
wretched condition of mind — prolific of none but per-
nicious results — I was, one day, creeping down the
slippery pathway of the hill, which led to the brook-
side. Everything around me looked foreboding ; the
dying men, who always encircled tlie quagmire of the
prison, sti-etched out their withered hands in supplica-
tion for food, which I had no power to give ; the dead,
lying with unclosed eyes and dirt-stained, pallid faces,
brought back to my heart, with startling force, the

DESPONDENCY AND HOPE. 165

question, How soon shall I, like these, lie uncared for,
dead, starved, after a painful Hfe without a gleam of hope ?
The thought was maddening ; reason was tottering ; and,
full of half-formed, desperate thoughts and gloomy re-
solves of ending at once that which seemed must be
ended there in long and torturing misery by starvation,
I saw lying at my feet a bit of waste paper. I said
within myself. If there is anything on that paper — one
word of hope — I'll take courage and live ; otherwise —
and here I clutched the paper, when the first words that
caught my eye were these : —

" Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take ;

The clouds ye so much dread

Are big with mercy, and will break

With blessings on your head ! "

It was a portion of the leaf of an old hymn book.
I never saw the hymn before nor since, and I may not
have quoted it exactly; yet, had an angel from heaven
assured me of my ultimate release from rebel hands, I
could not, thereafter, have been more confident of my
destiny. Never, after that, did my faith waver even for
an instant. At another time, one of my companions,
seeking for encouragement in his despondency, placed,
at random, his finger between the leaves of his Bible ;
it rested upon the twelfth verse of the one hundred and
fortieth Psalm : " I know that the Lord will maintain
the cause of the afflicted and the right of the poor."
Of course hope always construed such omens on our

166 THE soldier's story.

side to our advantage. Thus it was that the prisoner
clung to every straw of hope. At various times, when
I first went into prison, I had jocosely taken little bets
of suppers, dinners, &c., as to the duration of our im-
prisonment, but always lost them, through the death
of the other party.

During the last of July, or first of August, an addi-
tion was made to the stockade. This gave to the thirty-
five thousand crowded into the space of ten acres more
room by ten additional acres. The opening of the
new stockade, as it was usually termed, was an event
which contributed to the comfort of the prisoners in
various ways. It gave them more wood, by the tear-
ing down of the stockade walls, which had separated
the new enclosure from the old, furnishing for a time a
good supply. But, as the majority in prison had no
means of splitting and cutting up the huge logs which
formed the stockade walls, nor the instruments for dig-
ging up or cutting down the huge timbers, the bottoms
of which had been solidly fixed into the ground some
eight feet, and as but a limited number of the thirty
thousand men could work at such employment at a
time, the supply fell into the hands of a few who had
the strength and implements to do the work. The
sto^k, however, was soon exhausted, and wood became
almost as scarce as ever. There were yet in the new
stockade roots and stumps, which gave, for a while, to
those who had the courage and strength to dig in the
hot sun, a supply. But the larger number had neither

DISHONORABLE PROPOSALS. 167

strength, courage, nor the implements, other than then*
fingers, to dig with.

The reader, in considering our circumstances, must
always remember that the great majority of the impris-
oned thousands had become so emaciated and weak by
continual exposure and starvation as to be scarcely able
to take advantage of any circumstance like the fore-
going in their favor. There were always a few, per-
haps one in two hundred, who formed an exception to
the great mass of sufferers. A few who had axes or
large wedges were able, in some cases, to lay in a large
supply of wood, but, as want increased, these did not
long retain possession. The police, vigilant in all mat-
ters of general interest to themselves, caused those thus
stocked to divide with the suffering thousands arotmd
them, taking; a good share for their own trouble. With
all the additional acres added to the prison grounds, we
were still crow^ded for room ; and if I have not contin-
ually impressed the reader with our miserably cramped
condition, it was because one statement of such facts
seemed sufficient. For two or three weeks there was
a better supply of wood, but soon it was as scarce as
ever.

In spite of the sufferings endured, which I have but
feebly portrayed in the preceding pages, any offered
relief that involved dishonor to themselves, or reflected
discredit on our government, was not favorably received
by the great mass of suffering men. At one time,
during a period of most intense suffering, rebels

168 THE soldier's story.

from Macon and other large places came into the
stockade, offering tempting inducements for prisoners
to go with them, and work, during their imprisonment,
at their trades. Shoemakers, carpenters, blacksmiths,
and coopers were offered good food, clothes, and liberal
compensation in greenbacks. Those who made this
proposition were actually mobbed, and forced to leave
the prison, by men who were on the brink of starvation,
who had partaken of but one scanty meal during forty-
eight hours. I observed, from time to time, in the
different prisons where propositions were made of this
nature, that a time was always selected when we were
suffering the most for want of food. It was possible —
and the fact speaks volumes in favor of the prisoners'
fidelity to the government — they kne'vy that at any
other time such propositions would be rejected with
contempt. The common sentiment among prisoners
was, that it was as bad to assume the places of men
who would thus be enabled to take muskets, as to use
up arms themselves against their country.

David Robinson was a middle-aged man, a mechanic
of Massachusetts, who had left a family at home de-
pendent upon him for support, to fight the battles of
the country. His son, a lad of eighteen years, a fine,
manly fellow as ever gladdened a father's heart, had
followed in his footsteps. When the proposition came
to go out to work, and thus save the life of himself and
son, he replied, "No ! I know for what I enlisted, and
have been fighting for ; the boy and I will die, but we

GEEAT HEROISM. 160

can never desert the cause." The boy died, in what
manner I shall relate in coming pages. Tlie father,
broken in heart and health, lives to mourn his son.
Yet he was only a New England mechanic, whom the
terrors of death could not seduce from his country's
cause. At another time the proposition was made to
Corporal Gibson, of my company, an old man, who
afterwards died at Charleston. The answer was heroic :
" You can starve my body, but shall not stain my soul
with treason ! " Such were the men who died by thou-
sands, and filled the begrudged graves dug by relent-
less foes.

Dui'ing July and August efforts were persistently
made by men among us, backed by the rebels, to get
up a petition representing our condition, and asking
our government to take action for our release. This
was, in my opinion, at the time, and also that of a
great majority in the prison, but an effort of the rebels
to make the misery inflicted by themselves subservient
to their own base purposes of forcing our government
to their own terms. In prison, as elsewhere, there was
a diversity of opinion, yet the almost imanimous voice
was against forwarding such a petition. Sergeant
Kellogg, I believe it was, who was captured at Plym-
outh, was asked to sign it. " No," he replied ; " our
government will do what is right. These are our ene-
mies, trying to benefit their cause, not yours." Such
was the language of starving patriots, and such was
the force of words fitly spoken, that they were repeated

170 THE soldier's STORY.

through the prison in reply to those who asked for
signatures. Thus,, often sterhng words counteracted
evil influences !

The rebels have since made a virtue of having for-
warded, through kindred tools, such a petition. They
could look on and see the prisoner starve, and rejoice
thereat, without lifting a helping hand, and the next
moment forward a petition to our government, setting
forth the misery which they were inflicting ! Towards
those of our own numbers who were forced by hunger
to be their tools, we should be charitable, yet I believe
it to be a fact, that those who signed that petition,
were those who were suffering least in prison, — bounty-
jumpers and deluded men, — men not in sympathy
with the cause. The great mass repudiated the peti-
tion, and to-day, when the old flag floats over every
foot of land once desecrated by rebels, I feel a thrill of
pleasure, — melancholy though it be, — in contemplat-
ing those dark days when men starved and dying would
not swerve from the right, that the cause for which
they died has triumphed. And in coming days, the
noblest monuments of sacrifices made for the nation's
safety shall be those patriots' graves !

The more the prisoners were abused, the more fondly
did their thoughts turn to the old flag, undei which they
had fought, and which was the symbol of happiness and
plenty at home. " We have confidence in our govern-
ment," was a remark often made in reply to accusations
by the rebels that our government did not care whether

DEVOTION TO COUNTRY. 171

we starved or not. When I consider that this was the
common hmguage of men suffering under miseries rarely,
if ever, paralleled in history ; I cannot be astonished that
the Union exists to-day. I feel a conscious joy that
there was no act of mine, during a bitter imprisonment,
to disgrace that flag. In referring to the North, as
distinguished from tlie South, it was often spoken of as
"God's country," and the old flag as "God's flag."
Such was the halo of glory with which all its associa-
tions seemed surrounded.

Incidents were of such frequent occurrence patheti-
cally illustrative of the prisoners' devotion to the glori-
ous Stars and Stripes, that I will narrate one expressive
of the form this devotion often took. A color-serseant
of one of the regiments captured at Plymouth, N. C,
died some time in August. While his companions were
rendering the last services, — that rude preparation for
the grave already described, — they discovered his regi-
mental flag, which he had so often borne in battle,
wrapped about his person. He had placed it secretly
there to shield it from traitor hands. He could not
bear that this loved symbol of his countiy's glory should
be desecrated by the hands of traitors. Reverently his
comrades gazed upon its folds, and silently, with tear-
ful eyes, again restored it, as a fit covering for his
noble breast, to be buried with him, A glorious wind-
ing sheet for a patriot ! Dying men clung to little
mementoes, such as a miniature flag, or the badge of
their army corps. But it was the general constancy

172 THE soldier's story.

with which men ever cking through all their misery,
with love to their country and its cause, which spoke
more eloquently than any mere incident of their devo-
tion, and the triumph of principles over circumstances
of misery.

EXCH,\NGE ON THE BKAIN. 173

CHAPTER X.

E schange on the Brain. — Eumors of Sherman's Movements. — Great
Expectations and sad Results. — Fearful Mortality. — Hot Sun and
powerful Rains. — Stockade swept away. — A Spring of pure
Water. — A new Tunnelling Operation nearly fatal to its Projectors.

— Rebel Aid for once welcomed. — Construction of rude Barracks.

— Prospects of "Winter in Prison not encouraging. — Weary,
miserable Days. — Increased Sickness and Mortality. — Names of
fifty deceased in the Writer's Company. — Contrast of Loyal Blacks
with Disloyal Whites. — Another Tunnelling Operation betrayed
for Tobacco. — The Betrayer punished. — Believed to be a Spy.

— Further Rumors of Exchange. — A Realization. — Great Joy.

— Dying Comrade when Release was ordered. — An afi'scting
Scene. — Delusive Hopes. — Departure from Andersonville. —
Short Rations. — Doubtful Deliverance. — Charleston again. — A
Talk with a Rebel Citizen. — Effects of the Siege on the City. —
Pity and Sympathy. — Shot and Shell a Civilizer. — The Fail
Grounds.

HERE, as in other prisons, a fearful epidemic
reigned, termed by old prisoners " Exchange on
the Brain.'' Frequent rumors of exchange were cir-
culated designedly by the rebels, for the purpose of
quieting desperate men, and preventing the formation
of dangerous plots for release and escape. Often these
rumors seemed to have some foundation. Once the
priest who had charge of the spiritual development of
the prison commander, Wirz, came into prison, and

174 THE soldier's story.

read to a large concourse of prisoners, gathered to hear,
extracts from a paper -purporting to give news of an
exchange about to take place at Savannah. Prisoners
coming in from Sherman's army brought news of a
raid under Stoncman and McCook. The next news we
heard was, that Stoneman's cavalry was fighting around
Macon ; and then it was announced by exultant
Johnnies, that Stoneman and his whole army were
captured. This was partially confirmed by men belong-
ing to his force, coming in as captives. They informed
us of the siege of Atlanta, and reiterated the former
news of an exchange agreed upon ; but when and
where it was to take place, they had no information.
When Stoneman was raiding towards us, with evident
intentions of releasing the prisoners ; when rumors came
of his having arms for the prisoners, — which I have
since ascertained to be true, — our hearts beat high
with hope. Those who had previously had tendencies
of Exchange on the Brain, went fearfully wild with
release in the same place. A few, who had learned by
bitter experience how uncertain every thing in Dixie
was, while cheered by bright prospects, put but little
real confidence in them. Some pinned their faith and
hopes so implicitly upon a release, that they were un-
willing to wait even a day, and when at last they found
their hopes and faith disappointed, sunk into a despon-
dency from which nothing could arouse them, and
died. Rumors and statements of an exchange were so
frequently made and backed by evidence which looked

TEEEJBLE MORTALITY. 175

plausible, that the prisoners were expectant and de-
spondent by turns during July and August.

These two months were the most terrible of any
experienced by the general prisoners. Nine thousand
were said to have died during that space of time. In
one day in August, no less than one hundred and sixty
prisoners died, and the average was over a hundred
daily. From the 1st of February to the 16th of
September, twelve thousand Federal soldiers, prisoners
of war, were carried from the prison to the dead man's
trench and the felon's burial. Many of the deaths
were hastened by despondency. After an usual excite-
ment about exchange, — expecting to be called out to
be released at any moment, — followed by disappoint-
ment, deaths were the most frequent.

Extreme heat, during July and August, was often
followed by days dark with intermittent showers. On
one occasion, during such a period, the ground was
rendered so hot by the intense rays of the sun as to
blister my feet by mere contact. This period of heat
was followed by rain in such quantities as in a few
hours to cause a freshet, which swept away the stockade
where the brook entered and left the prison ; and also
swept away portions on the north-west side, by the flow-
ins: of the water down the hill-side. Wretched crea-
tures all over the prison were crawling out of holes in the
ground, in which they had burrowed, half drowned with
the water which had suddenly filled them. Canteens,
plates, bits of wood, blankets, spoons, pails, and hats,

176 THE soldier's story.

were swept away down the liill-side, the prisoners
franticly rushing after their deserting goods and habita-
tions. The only washing some of the poor fellows got
was on such an occasion. It was curious to observe
the different manner in which various individuals
accepted of such a dispensation. Some laughed, others
swore and abused fate, many screamed and cried as if
mad, wliile still others crouched in the rain, or saw the
whole scene unmoved, as if gazing on a panorama with
which they had no concern. I sat at such times crouch-
ing in the rain, my body bent up in a manner to bring
my knees, stomach, and head in close contact, between
which were folded and placed my jacket and ragged
blanket, — my back exposed to the rain, forming a kind
of roof to keep these valuables from the wet. But all
in vain such an effort. The force of the rain, running
down the hill-side, continually upset me, by under-
mining the sand beneath my feet, until at last losing
my blanket and plulosophy, miserable and grotesque as
others, I went rushing and pitching after my tin pail
and blanket, caught up and carried away by the
torrent.

Large forces were thrown out to protect the portions
of stockade swept away by the flood, and keep the
prisoners from desperate attempts at escape. All night
under arms these forces were kept in position in the
rain, until the stockade was repaired. Night and day
artillery was manned, which commanded the broken
portions of the stockade, and every precaution taken

ANOTHER TUNNELLING OPERATION. 177

against the escape of prisoners. One great good re-
sulted from this freshet. On the hill-side where the
stockade had been broken away, a spring was discov-
ered, which supplied an abundance of pure water to the
prisoners, greatly in contrast with the filthy stream
which had been our only supply during the summer.

Shortly after the foregoing event, I became engaged
in a tunnelling operation, which came near proving
fatal to its projector. Tunnels did not usually cave in,
for these reasons : the top of the earth, after the tunnel
passed under the dead line, was interlaced by roots and
fibres, which formed sufficient adhesive power, in most
parts of the stockade, to keep the earth from caving in.
Besides, the earth was usually hard and clayey. In
this case, however, after we got beyond the stockade,
on the outside, we ran into sandy soil, where our mis-
fortunes began. Two of us were digging, in the day-
time, when, in our rear, the tunnel caved in, and
effectually cut off our retreat into the stockade. Grad-
ually it commenced falhng upon us, filhng our ears,
eyes, and mouths with dirt. There seemed to be no
release from our critical condition, except by digging
upward, which we commenced to do with fear and
trembling, as that operation was always attended with
great danger of being buried alive. Suddenly, down
came a mass of earth above us, which did not, as we
anticipated, bury us so deep but that we scrambled
out of it, slurieking with terror. The rebel guard at
that time, coming around with the relief, rescued us
12

178 THE soldier's STORY.

from our peril — the only time I was ever glad to see a
rebel. /

During the last of August, rude barracks were in
process of construction in the upper portion of the new
Btockade. This looked like preparations for winter,
and gave us but little comfort, as these buildings con-
sisted of roofs only, on uprights, and there was no pros-
pect ol more than a very few being accommodated by
their use.

The weary, weary, dreadful days dragged slowly
along, amid suffering and death in prison. September
came. Over fifty of my company had died since the
term of imprisonment began, which was not so large in
proportion to their number as occurred in other compa-
nies captured at the same time with ourselves. The
majority of our two companies were veterans — strong
men, inured to hardsliips and exposure by a previous
experience in camp and field. Scarcely any of my com-
pany died until after the middle of July ; August swept
them away by scores. The following is an incomplete,
imperfect list of those who died : Wm. Arrington^
Wm. Bessom, Nicholas Bessom, Chas. A. Bent, Wm.
Brown, Winslow A. Bryant, B. G. M. Dyer, Wm.
H. Burns, Geo. Combs, Peter Dunn, John Duffee, B.
W. Drake, Geo. Edwards, Geo. Floyd, John Fegan,
Cyrus B. Fishjr, Patrick Flynn, James Henry, G. P.
Reed, S. A. Smith, John Shaw, J. Thomas, James
Wilson, C. O. Wilson, F. A. Stephens, G. Arrington,
Pat. Henley, Cha/'les Holbrook, Joseph Hoyt, Wm. H.

LOYAL BLACKS DISLOYAL -WTIITES. 179

Haynes, Wm. Jolmson, Michael Kelleher, Chas. A.
Moore, Wm. McGrain, Chaa. Moss, John Milan, Ber-
nard Mehan, C. M. Martin, John McDermot, John
Nevison, Benj. Phillips, Chandler Petie, Patrick Regan,
Wm. AVyman, Kendal Piersons, Wm. L. Gordon, and
others whose names I have lost.

Poor boys ! Noble fellows ! As I recall their names,
memory brings each face, pale with prison suffering,
before me. I cannot but have greater faith in human
nature from having known them. Dear comrades !
(mdeared to me by many sufferings ! guilty of no
crimes ; theirs was a death of lingering torture, to
which, in comparison, the devices of the Inquisition
Avould have been mercy. Victims of a relentless ha-
tred which has not ceased with the war, your nameless,
crowded graves dot the prison burial-ground, and point
a solemn moral to the barbarities enacted there. To-day,
when the men of Georgia ask the rights they formerly
exercised, and amons; them the rio;ht of excluding the
negro from the ballot-box, I wonder those patriot
bones do not start from their crowded, shallow graves,
to bear testimony that, while living, every white man
of that locality banded with bloodhounds to prevent
their escape, forming a network of vigilance through
which it was almost an impossibility to break, and their
only dependence was in the blacks, — the Unionists alone
of that section, — who harbored them when it was a
peril to their lives, and gave them of their food when
they had but a bare subsistence for themselves. You

180 THE soldier's STORY.

who sit by the quiet fireside and read these records of
sufiering, reflect, when you hear the clamorings of those
who are trying to regain lost power, that they are those
who, all over that southern land, by their silence con-
sented, or by action indorsed, the barbarous treatment
under which Union men lingered, sufiered and died
amid the tortures of starvation.

In September my last effort at gaining liberty by
tunnelling was frustrated. Fifty men commenced a
tunnel on a grand scale. It was nearly completed, and
was the most perfect thing of the kind ever devised by the
prisoners. It was commenced at the bottom of an old
well, and two men could walk abreast from one end to
the other. One of our number betrayed us to the rebel
quartermaster for a plug of tobacco. Another of our
companions saw them conversing, and, getting behind
them, heard him propose to tell the quartermaster some-
thing important, if he would give him the tobacco. He
ran and informed us in season for us to make ourselves
scarce. After the tunnel was discovered, those engaged
in it were natm-ally enraged, and, seizing the traitor,
printed on his forehead, with India ink and needles, in-
delibly, the letter T. They were proceeding to worse
punishment, when a rebel guard came into the stockade
and carried him outside. In spite of evidence to the
contrary, I have but little doubt he was a rebel spy,
who had been sent in with other prisoners to betray us.
Diligent inquiries were set on foot to find out who
had punished the traitor in the manner described. To

PROSPECTS OF EXCHAJSfGE. 181

accomplish this, we were threatened with being starved
into submission ; but the rations, after being stopped
for twenty-four hours, were again issued.

Rumors of exchange continued to pervade the prison.
Men, crazy with the idea of freedom and home, wan-
dered up and down the prison, clinging to every rumor,
like drowning men to straws. The excitement was
made worse by the extravagant rumor circulated around
c<imp by the rebel quartermaster and the priest, who
was said to be Wirz's confessor ! The excitement in-
creased daily, and men were expecting at any moment
to be called out. Many were called, but it was to that
bourn from whence no traveller returns : many were
released, but the herald of their freedom was the grim
messenger. Death !

At last, after repeated rumors had prepared the
prison for their purpose, orders came for certain of
the detachments, or nineties, as they were termed, to
be ready to leave the prison. We were told that there
was a Federal transport fleet off* Savannah, waiting for
us. To all in prison this seemed the dawn of freedom,
and the most incredulous believed. Kentucky Joe,
who always protested that everything was "dreadful
onsartain in Dixie," became a convert, and had ex-
change on the brain. Every one clamored for a chance,
and feared to be left out of the exchange. Ninety after
ninety went out of prison rejoicing, and faintly cheer-
ing. It was cheering which brought teais to the eye,

182 THE soldier's story.

so puny and weak did it come from the poor, weak,
starved fellows. But

" The hollow eye grew bright,
And the poor heart almost gay,
As they thought of seeing home and friends again."

I never hear that song without its recalling that scene.
Men who had been brought by suffering to the very
verge of idiocy, or who for months had been smitten
with almost hopeless melancholy or despair, as these
sounds came at last dimly to their ear, like remem-
brance of a dream, their glorious import, "going home,"
burst upon them. They staggered to their feet, and
were carried, by the pressure of a dense crowd, outside
the prison, feebly cheering, or regardless of the pres-
ence of rebels, joined in the chorus of

" Kally round the flag, boys, rally once again."

My ninety had got orders to be ready, and I was in a
tremor of excitement, when one of my comrades sent
for me, saying he was dying. My heart sank at think-
ing of the suffering, dying men who must stay behind
and perish. My heart almost reproached me for being
glad, when companions who had stood by my side in
days of battle were suffering — dying, with none to
care for them, — without sister's or mother's hand to
soothe them, without food, and with no shelter from
the pitiless rain and sun.

I went, and found John Nevison stretched on the

EXCHANGE BY DEATH. 183

poor remains of his blanket, (lying. How often the
poor fellow, true to a stubborn Scotch nature, had ral-
lied, and tried to live! "I am glad you are going
home, Sarge." (His generous heart had room for joy
at others' good fortune even in death.) "I wish you to
send word to my mother" (Mrs. Margaret Nevison,
Newcastle, England, on the Tyne) ; " tell her I enlisted
to fight against slavery — for my adopted country. Tell
her all about me ! " Poor fellow ! I understood him ;
he wished me to tell her he had done his duty. Com-
rade in battle, I can testify that none stood up in fight
more manfully than John Nevison — he who so often
had sung, with pathetic voice, the song,

" Comrades, will you tell me, truly,
Who shall care for mother now?"

I now understood why he sung that song with so much
feeling. He never before had spoken of his mother.
Poor John ! enshrined in the hearts of comrades, you
lie in your nameless grave among the victims of Ander-
sonville ; and

"Who will care for mother now?"

I took his poor, thin hand in mine, and pledged him I
would do all he wished. I forgot his address for a
time, but in the delirium of a fever recalled it, though
many other forgotten things were not again brought to
mind.

I was waiting for my turn to come to get out of

184 THE soldier's story.

prison. Every subterfuge was resorted to to go with
the lucky ones. Those who had means bribed ; those
who had none "flanked," and were rewarded ofttimes
with broken heads, for others became savage at the
idea of being cheated out of their chance, and the
police exercised anything but a protecting influence
upon the unlucky heads of flankers. Those who tried
their wits received often a reminder upon their brain,
not as a test of its quality, but as a check to its further
exercise. Men were crying at the gate, as we went
out, at being defrauded of their chance by some auda-
cious flanker. I went at last, rejoicing at what ap-
peared to be the day of deliverance. As I passed rebel
headquarters, I saw Sergeant Smith, who, it will be
remembered, was one of my captors when I escaped at
one time from Anderson ville. "Well, Smith," said I,
" there are no bloodhounds after me this trip home-
ward." The Sergeant shook his head (it seems to me,
sorrowfully, when I recall it now) to see us thus elated
by delusive hopes of " going home," destined, O, in
how many cases, never to be realized ! We reached the
depot, were divided into squads of sixty, and crowded
into box cars. We were full of hope, however, and
kept saying, "Well, we shall have room enough soon."
Our rations had been previously placed in each car — a
piece of corn-cake about the shape and size of a brick.
We were told these were our rations for three days'
journey. One of my comrades, J. W. D., desperately
resolved to preserve a piece of the bread to carry home

DEPARTURE — WHITHER ? 185

as a cm iosity ; but hunger got the better of the poor
fellow's resolve, and I saw the last crumb disappearing
before the afternoon of our second day's journey.

During the first day, three men died in the car where
I was. My bread lasted me two days, as I was careful
not to eat too much at a time ; yet it was considerable
trouble to have it around — a continual temptation to
myself and to others. We arrived at Macon the after-
noon of our first day's travel. The vigilance of the
guard was here redoubled, and the fact excited our
suspicion that there was to be no exchange, after all.
As we passed thi-ough Macon, one of Stoneman's men
pointed out to me the bullet marks on the buildings and
fences made by our advance just before his capture.
We had been suspicious that we were going to Ala-
bama, but our hearts rose within us as the cars took
the direction for Savannah. A negro informed us that
" Captin Sherman " had taken Atlanta, and was making
for Macon as "tight as he can come." This looked like
removing us to a place of security rather than an ex
change ; still, we were hopeful that we were to be
exchanged to prevent our capture. As we neared Sa-^
vannah, and changed our guard, the officer of the new
guard came up, and we made inquiries of him as to our
destination — if we were to be exchanged. He replied
by candidly stating that we were to be placed down on
one of the islands, under fire from the Federal guns.
Several men were shot, on our route from Savannah to
Charleston, while trying to escape from the cars. We

186 THE soldier's story.

caught sight of our fleet in the distance, as we passed
over the bridge leading to Charleston, — and our hearts
thrilled with a savage kind of joy, when we heard the
shell from our batteries, shrieking over the city. We
termed them Gilmore's errand boys, or Gilmore's
morning reports on the condition of rebeldom.

At last the cars were halted in the streets of Charles-
ton, and citizens, negroes, and soldiers, thronging the
streets, peered curiously into the cars, to get a look at
the Yanks. It appeared to nie, then, that they wore a
haggard, care-worn look. The only hopeful face of
the group was some old negress, who had kept fat and
jolly on the idea of Uncle Abe's coming soon. Said
one citizen to another, in my hearing, "They are all
foreigners — ain't they ? " This riled me not a little, and
I replied, saying, " You recollect the Plymouth pris-
oners who passed through these streets in April ? "
"Yes, perfectly; a very fine body of men," said he.
" These are the same men ; your government has
starved all semblance of men out of us." "You are a
foreigner?" said he, looking sneeringly and critically
at my dilapidated wardrobe and dirty face, which had
been guiltless of washing for the three days of our
journey. " No, I belong to Massachusetts ! " I proudly
replied. He seemed much shocked, either at the fact
of our condition, or that any one should not be ashamed
to hail from Massachusetts.

It was just before sundown when we were formed in
line, and marched through the back streets of Charles^

CHARLESTON AGAIN. 187

ton. The effects of the siege were visible upon e very-
hand, but we were informed that the damage done was
really worse than mere appearances indicated. The
shell made only an irregular hole through the exterior
walls, whereas the interior of buildings where shell had
exploded was often a mass of ruins. It was no figure
of speech, but a reality, that grass was growing in
the streets of the proud but doomed city which fii'st
raised its defiant hand against the Federal government.
The shell and shot from Gilmore's batteries had a
civilizing influence over its people, for in no place were
we so kindly treated by citizens and soldiers as in
Charleston. Women and children looked pityingly
upon us, and such expressions as "Poor fellows!"
" Too bad ! " &c., showed pity and sympathy for our
condition, which we had never before experienced* in
the Confederacy.

I noticed that those citizens whose dress betokened
that they belonged to the better classes wore often a
sober, subdued look, which, during my experience in the
war, I had observed as the result of much anxiety,
mental suffering, and loss of friends. I addressed one
of these as we were waiting on the street — " Ain't you
folks about sick of all tliis fighting?" "We are tired
of it, dreadful sick of it," said he, while he vainly tried
to keep back the tears that ran down his face ; " but we
are going to fight you'un Yanks just as long as we kin."
Noble stuff — worthy of a more decent cause.

Finally, just as the sun was setting in an ocean of

188 THE soldier's story.

beautiful clouds, we arrived at our destination on the
" Fair Ground," or "Race Course," in the rear of Charles-
ton, where were about five thousand of the Anderson-
ville prisoners, who had preceded us. The situation
was pleasant ; the green grass, to which our sight had
been unused for many weary months, met the eye with
refreshing pleasantness. The situation was better than
we had anticipated, though we were disappointed in not
being placed down on the islands, where we could see
the flash of friendly artillery, or perchance the old flag,
for no one who has not had such experience can under-
stand the longing of our hearts for the old flag, and for
familiar sigrhts.

IMPKISONMENT AT CHARLESTON. 189

CHAPTER XI.

Imprisonment on the Fair Ground. — Improved Condition. — Hard-
Tack and the Fear of losing it. — Tin Pail stolen. — Great Mis-
fortune. — Loss of Caste by it. — Kindness of Women. — Ludicrous
Tumbling into Wells. — Gilmore's Morning Reports welcomed. —
The Dead Line again. — Continued large Mortality. — Want of
Hospital Accommodations. — Good Offices of Sisters of Charity. —
The Issue of Rations. — More Variety, but not of Quantity. — Ex-
pedients to obtain an Increase. — The Rebels baffled in Counting.

— Honorable conduct of Colonel Iverson. — Scarcity of Wood. —
Sad Cases of Destitution. — Shocking Condition of the Writer. —
Effects of Scurvy. — Death wliile waiting for Food. — Decreased
Rations. — Plans for Escape. — A Trial at it. — Recaptured. — A
warm Fire. — Sent to the Workhouse. — Improvement on the
Camp. — Discovery of interesting Papers. — Sent back again to
Prison. — A new Partnership. — Rations getting worse. — Further
Attempts to bribe Prisoners to Disloyalty. — Starved and insane
Men consent. — A Speech and its good Effects. — The picturesque
Appearance of the Orator. — Yellow Fever. — Ludicrous Incidents.

— Leave Charleston. — Journey to Florence. — Another Attempt to
escape.

THE Fair Ground proper, when seen under favor-
able circumstances, must have been a beautiful
spot. It contained an area of about forty acres, sur-
rounded by dense overhanging trees, interwoven by
ivy, laurel, and honeysuckle, forming an almost im-
penetrable foliage. Aside from a distant view, we were
not allowed any of the enjoyments which such shade

190 THE soldier's STORY.

and beauty could confer. We were placed in the centre
of the Fau' Ground, with no shade or habitations, except
such as we might construct from our garments or
ragged blankets ; but there was a cool breeze from the
ocean, and the sound of bells and the rattle over pave-
ments came pleasantly to the ear. The sight of green
foliage refreshed the gaze of miserable men, for a long
time unused to pleasant sights and sounds.

The night of our arrival, three "hard-tack" were issued
as rations, for twenty-four hours, to each man, and we
were in the third heavens in anticipating such luxurious
rations each succeeding day. That night, after devour-
ing two of my "hard crackers," I lay down to rest with
the remaining one in my tin pail, under my head, for my
morning's breakfast. I found it impossible to keep my
mind from the hard-tack long enough to get to sleep,
supposing some one would steal it while I was slum-
bering : the thought was maddening. Vainly I endeav-
ored to divert my mind from craving hunger, by saying
the multiplication-table. It was "no go." That hard-
tack was so fascinating ! Hunger, and fear of losing it,
got the better of the contest with sleep, and I could
bear no more. Arousing myself, I devoured that
"infantry square," in one time and several motions, not
down in the tactics. I never remember of enjoying any
food, however luxurious, as I did that hard cracker.

I mention this incident, insignificant in itself, as
illustrative of how little it took to elate or depress men
in our condition. That night, however, I met with the

A GREAT MISFORTUNE. 191

great misfortune of my imprisonment. Some vagabond
stole my little tin pail, which, I may say without ex-
aggeration, had been my best friend dm'ing the preced-
ing months of ray captivity. It had been such a con-
venience to myself and companions, that few, who have
not been prisoners, can understand how great a loss it
was. Used by one and another, sometimes it was not
off a fire during the day, except long enough to change
hands.

I was reduced, by this misfortune, thenceforward
through my imprisonment, to the unpleasant alternative
of borrowing cooking utensils, or of eating my rice, flour,
or Indian meal raw. It took so little in prison to make
one's circumstances indescribably miserable, that this
really was an overwhelming misfortune. The loss
of a fortune at home could not have so affected my
well-being or "good standing" among companions.
From one accustomed to confer favors on others, I
became dependent, and begging and hunting, often for
whole days, for some one willing to loan me a tin quart
to cook in.

On the morning following, the people of Charleston
came in flocks to see the Yankees. A majority of these
were women. Some few came with food to sell, but
were not allowed to trade over the guard line with pris-
oners. Others, actuated by pity, watched for chances,
and, when the rigor of the guard was relaxed, threw
cakes, potatoes, or some like luxuries, over the guard
line among the wretched creatures who gathered waiting

192 THE soldier's story.

for luck to favor them in some manner. The food thus
thrown in was, however, but a drop in that Maelstrom
of human miserables, who, actuated by hunger, strug-
gled madly among each other for its possession. After
a time, this feeding of the common prisoners was
stopped, and the women were told to confine their man-
ifestations of pity to the hospital, which was situated
outside of the prison grounds, in our rear. Many a
poor fellow, who otherwise would have died, lives to
bless the women of Charleston. May those whose
hands were thus lifted in pity never be stricken down
with that hopeless hunger which tliey sought so kindly
to reheve !

The next evening we received as rations two " hard-
tack" per man, and a rarity of about two ounces of
fresh meat, — which last was, so far as I observed,
eaten raw throughout the camp at one sitting. Thus it
was that we were inclined to be pleased with the change
in our situation, in spite of disappointment about ex-
change. During the first two weeks, I had not been
fortunate enough to get the means of constructing shel-
ter. One day, when wood was being brought to the
camp for the use of the prison, I accosted an officer,
whom I saw around camp, and requested him to get me
three sticks from the wood-pile, that I might construct
a shelter from the sun by raising my blanket upon them.
Contrary to my expectations, lie at once kindly complied
with my wishes, and I was made happy with the means
of constructing a "shebang." Upon subsequent in-

GILMOEE'S KEPOETS. 193

quiry, I found this officer to be Lieutenant-Colonel
Ivcrson, in command of the camp. He had very strong
prejudices against Yankees, but was inclined to do all
within liis limited power to better the condition of the
prisoners.

At Charleston we obtained a kind of brackish water,
by digging shallow wells from six to ten feet deep. In
a short time, so easy were they to dig, they became so
plenty as to be annoying and inconvenient to the pedes-
trians around camp. Plenty of water, coupled with the
fact that, about twice a week, we got a small piece of
eoap, caused clean faces to become more common than
ever before in prison. The inconvenience above men-
tioned was so great that one could not walk around in
the evening without being precipitated into a well. Thus
many a fellow took an extemporized bath, in which his
feet and legs, or head and shoulders, got the uncontem-
plated benefit of water. Under such disadvantages,
night-A^Tilking became unpopidar and unpleasant.

Each morning, about sunrise, shell from the guns
of the Federal batteries down the harbor would begin
to burst over a prominent steeple of the city. The
report of the gun which sent the missile could not
usually be heard. These were termed, among the pris-
oners, Gilmore's morning reports. Sometimes a shell
would burst over the Fair Ground, which would be re-
ceived with great enthusiasm among the prison boys,
and Avith demonstrations of applause, such as, "Bully
for the Swamp Angel," &c. Some days the bombard-

194 THE soldier's story.

ing would be very active, and we could hear in the
city the dull thud, and the ripping and tearing, as the
shell penetrated or burst in buildings. As may be sup-
posed, it was diverting to us to see and hear these evi-
dences of retributive justice going on among our foes.
If one had fallen in our very midst, I have no doubt
our boys s\^ould have cried, "Bully!" so welcome,
always, were these evidences of the nearness of friends.
The people of Charleston seemed to have got accus-
tomed to them to such a degree that, during the
heaviest bombardment of September, when none cared
to stay in the lower portion of the city, the boys were
unconcernedly flying their kites. I counted eighteen
kites up wliile one of the heaviest bombardments was
going on. Fires were of such frequent occurrence,
resulting from shells, that the fire department became
almost as important as that of the military.

On the first week of my confinement at Charleston,
our old enemy, the dead line, was introduced. A ne-
gro, superintended by the " irrepressible " white man,
was sent around camp, turning a furrow with a plough
and its mule attachment. This was the line which to
overstep was death to the prisoner. None but those
prisoners in comparatively good health had been sent
from Anderson ville. For quite a time an effort seemed
to be made to relieve our misery ; but the great mass
had been starved and exposed to sun and rain too long to
be benefited by anything short of a most radical change.
Hence men died about as fast, in proportion to their

HOSPITAL. — SISTERS OF CHARITY. 195

numbers, as at Andersonville. Scurvy, diarrhoea, and
fever swept the prisoners off in vast numbers.

The place dignified by being called "the hospital,"
did not contain a single tent, the only shelter being,
here and there, blankets raised on sticks, which were
inadequate protection from rain or sun. Colonel Iver-
son, who, I believe, was, for a time, in command of the
prison, made strenuous efforts for our benefit. A sut-
ler was appointed for the camp, who was not allowed to
ask of prisoners higher prices than asked in the city.
This was a convenience to those who had money, but
the great majority had none. The sutler's store of
goods contained but few varieties — black pepper, un-
ground, turnips, sweet potatoes, and baker's bread.
Ten dollars in Confederate money for one in greenbacks
was the general rate of exchange ; and this was obtained
tlu'ough the Sisters of Charity, who visited us, doing
acts of kindness to the suffering, bringing clothes and
food, carrying messages to our oflficers, prisoners in the
city, and bringing the reply. To people so cleanly we
must have been objects of disgust. The vermin, visible
upon all prisoners, could not have been pleasant to
vefined persons, unaccustomed to such misery. Our
dirt-begrimed, half-naked persons must have been re-
volting, yet no word or look from these kindly Sisters
showed shrinking or disgust. I have seen them bending
in prayer or in offices of mercy over almost naked crea-
tiu-es, whom disease and filth had rendered indescriba-
bly loathsome, never, by word or look, showing other

196 THE soldier's story.

feeling than pity, and never making the object of theii
care feel humiliation or shame. Their kindly address of
" My poor child ! " fell pleasantly on the ear. No im-
portunities could vex them, and I do not remember of
having heard an utterance of impatience from their lips.
I may have been prejudiced, at first, against these Sisters
of Charity, but certainly their acts were truly Cln-istian,
worthy of imitation by aU on like occasions.

As I have said, gangrene, diarrhoea, and scurvy
raged terribly in camp, notwithstanding our improved
condition. It was about the third week of my stay at
Charleston, I was told that Corporal Gibson, of my
company, whom I have mentioned in preceding pages,
lay dying. I found this brave man lying in the hot
6un, with no shelter or attendant. Said he, " I could
have lived to get out of the hands of any savages but
these ; they are too cruel for an old man like me to
expect from them anything less than death." The
untold sufferings this man endured, — who once had
refused to purchase freedom and life as the price of
treason, — retaining clearness of mind until the mo-
ment of death, was but one instance among the many
daily occurring in prison. A young soldier, who at
one time had been clerk of Company G, second Massa-
chusetts heavy artillery, died dming the same week at
Charleston. In his last moments he continually said,
" I should be wilHng to die if I could have enough to
eat, and die at home." Thus longings for home and
food and thoughts of death were often bitterly crowded
together.

EXTRA RATIONS BY DECEPTION. 197

For convenience in issuing rations, the prisoners were
divided into detachments of thousands, and then sub-
divided into hundi'eds. There were sergeants of thou-
sands and sergeants of hundreds, and a chief sergeant
over the whole. These divisions were to facihtate the
issue of rations, and the sergeants were selected from
among the prisoners, and were often chosen by them.
Much trouble, first and last, occurred in prison from
the rebels never being able to count the prisoners cor-
rectly. We were often counted, but with no satisfac-
toiy results. There were, throughout the prison, so
many hungry men — whose wits seemed to sharpen in
proportion to their hunger — continually devising ways
to get " extra feed," that it was not strange that the
rebels frequently found themselves issuing more r.itions
than there were men in prison. By judicious manage-
ment, ingenious Yankees contrived to belong to two or
more squads, and draw rations for each without exciting
suspicion. Upon one count the rebel sergeants found
they had issued five hundred more rations than there
were men in camp ; and even by exercise of the greatest
care in these countings, they would often be cheated
two or thi-ee hundred men, through the dexterity which
]»risoners had acquired of shifting from one squad to
another, and getting counted twice. Once, while en-
deavorinof to count us, Colonel Iverson was so baffled
by the tactics, that he dismissed the matter for the da} ,
good naturedly declaring that we were "heavy dogs."

At last, in despau- of finding out the exact number

198 THE soldier's stoey.

of Yanks in any other manner, they marched the pris-
oners out into the open space, and kept us standing in
line until counted ; but even here, where any cheat
seemed certain of being detected, and though threat-
ened with punishment if we played Yankee tricks on
them, the men of the rear rank were managed in such
a manner that, in our detachment, a Httle over nine
hundred men contrived to count up a thousand. The
officer counting us mistrusted something wrong, and
recounted us twice, without detecting the cheat, but
expressed his distrust in a kind of a stage aside, saying,
" You'n Yanks are the doggondest fellows I ever did
count." The rebels in this transaction reminded me of
Cuffee, who, being asked by his master if he had
counted all the pigs, replied, " Yes, massa, all 'cept a
little speckled one ; he run'd round so I couldn't count
him." They never succeeded to their liking in making
us come out straight.

About this time Colonel Iverson detected the sutler
in two offences : first, of receiving greenbacks in pay
ment for goods, — a criminal offence in the Confederacy,
— and, second, charging the prisoners exorbitajit prices
in trading. Whereupon he confiscated the green-
backs, to be used to obtain comforts for our sick, and
forced him to conform to the schedule of prices in
the city. The following were, with little variation, the
prices charged in Confederate money : Bread, one dollar
jjer loaf; sweet potatoes, ten dollars per bushel; three
flat turnips, one dollar; black pepper, ten dollars per

PRISONEllS EOBBED. 199

ounce. Taking into consideration the fact that one
dollar in greenbacks wonld bring ten dollars in Con-
federate money, it made the schedule of prices ex-
tremely reasonable to those who were lucky enough to
ha^e money. There were, however, only a very few
fortunate ones who had managed to conceal money, and
get into prison with it. Those who had been cap-
tured during the summer in the vicinity of Richmond,
underwent strict searches, and were robbed of their
money, watches, and other valuables by the authorities,
who pretended that they would again be restored when
their imprisonment was over. Whatever may have been
their intentions at the time, I never knew of but one
instance where such promises were fulfilled, and that
was in the case of Colonel Iverson, who had taken away
greenbacks to the amount of many hundred dollars,
and when the prisoners were released, restored the
money. The great majority of prisoners had not a cent
in their pockets, nor a pocket to put it in if they had a
cent. To such the sale of the delicacies mentioned
was nothing but an aggravation. If potatoes had
sold for five cents a bushel, not more than one man
in a hundred of the prisoners could have purchased
a peck.

After giving us hard-tack for a few days, raw rations
were issued in prison iu very small quantities, in which
the rebels seemed to have adopted a plan to make
variety take the place of quantity. Rations for each
man per day were for a time as follows : Tv,'o heaped

200 THE soldier's story.

spoonfuls of rice, two of flour, one of beans, and on^
of hominy. I remember it more particularly, as one of
my comrades, who acted as a squad sergeant, usually
divided the rations with a common teaspoon. Some-
times this estimate would fall short, but rarely, if ever,
overrun. Wood was issued in quantities of about one
common cord wood pine stick for twenty men per day.
But its issue was very irregular. Sometimes none would
be given for weeks. There was, however, a good ex-
cuse for this, for all the wood had to be brought a long
distance on the cars, and then brought in teams to the
prison ground. As there was a scarcity of rolling stock
in those parts, this was a better excuse than could be
found at Andersonville, where the prison was surrounded
by a dense pine forest.

Many of the prisoners were destitute of cooking
utensils, and could not borrow ; and either from want
of strength to run round, or getting discouraged by
failures, after repeated rebuffs upon application for such
favors, they would eat their I'ations raw, or go without.
A young fellow belonging to the eighty-fifth New York
independent battery, named Myers, had nothing in
which to draw his rations, but a boot leg, into which he
had fitted a wooden bottom. He had no cooking
utensil, and ate his rations from this boot leg, without
a spoon, day after day, uncooked, sometimes stirred up
in a little water. This miserable being camped on the
ground near the place I occupied. He scarcely ever lay
down at night without wishing; that he might never

CONDITION OF THE WEITER. 203

awake. It did, indeed, require more courage to livt
than to die. At last, after days and nights of lingering
torture, his prayers for death were answered. Near
me, one morning, I found his cold and lifeless form
stretched upon the ground. He had died, his eyes
closed as if in sleep. I noticed something clasped in
his hand, and stooped to examine it. It was the likeness
of a beautiful girl, and on the back was written in a
delicate female hand, "To William, from Sarah" — a
whole history of love, disappointment, and death, in
brief. When I reflected that each man among the
thousands dying around me had histories similar in their
griefs, and loves, and longings for home, and when I
considered the bitter pangs of dying men uncared for
among worse than barbarians, it seemed too much of
human misery for contemplation or utterance.

One day, when some Sisters of Charity came into the
prison limits, — no very agreeable task for a cleanly
female, — one of them remarked, in apology for not
havinfif sfot some article which she had undertaken to
obtain for one of our number, that the firing was so
heavy that it was not safe to venture down in the part
of the city where such things were sold. These kindly
Sisters attended to all alike without ever inquiring our
cfeed, or appearing to think they were doing anything
more than a duty.

My physical condition at this time was worse than at
any time during my captivity. My clothes were in
tatters, scurvy had drawn up the cords of my legs, and

202 THE soldier's story.

from the same cause my teeth were almost dropping
from my jaws ; my gums and mouth were swollen, and
it became difficult to eat the most common food. My
bones ached so intensely at times that I could find no
more appropriate name for the pain than " teethache " in
them. Something must be done. I must make con-
tinual efforts, or go down to the dogs' death many were
suffering ai'ound me. So I used to wander around
camp, picking up potato peelings from the mud and
dirt, which some " well-to-do " fellow had thrown away.
These I washed, and ate raw ; and I have no doubt they
did me much good. Once or twice, I was lucky in
obtaining some turnip-tops, which I cooked, and
enjoyed hugely. But there were thousands of hungry
men on the lookout for these delicacies as well as my-
self, and therefore it took continued and persevering
efforts for me to get a nibble once a week. This
vegetable food checked the scurvy, and kept it at least
within bounds.

The hospital was at last moved into one corner of the
prison grounds. One day it was rumored that vegeta-
ble soup would that day be issued to the sick of the
prison. A man who could crawl was not considered
sick. A poor sick fellow near begged me to take his
dish and draw some for him. This I undertook to do,
and after waiting some hours I got the soup, and
returned quickly to the sick man. He was sitting on
the ground, his hands clasped, and his head upon his
knees. I spoke to him, but he did not answer. I

PLAJSrS FOE ESCAPE. 203

touched his hand — raised it — it fell lifeless from my
gi-asp ; he was dead — died while sitting, wniting for
food in this moiuTiful position. It was quite common
for men to die thus suddenly. In my squad I was
knowing to several instances of men's drawing their
rations, and dying an hour or two afterwards. I took
the dead man's place in eating the soup, for however
isorry I was for him, I was too himgry to refrain from
relishing the food. That afternoon, with a full stom-
ach, I felt like patronizing everybody.

About the last of September, we learned from our
g\iard that five or six thousand rebel prisoners had been
landed on one of the islands, in possession of our forces,
in Chai'leston harbor, to occupy a stockade built for
that purpose. This, perhaps, explained the reason why
we were not put down under fire ourselves.

I had often, when low in health, and restless under
the restraints of captivity, tmTied over in my mind the
probabilities of an escape. The rations of the prison
were steadily growing less in quantity, and the extreme
negligence or the purposed plans of the rebels kept us
frequently for twenty-four hours without food. Rest-
lessly seeking some mitigation of these sufferings, it
appeared to me possible that some dark night I might
crawl on my hands and knees through and beyond the
guard. There was great danger of being shot, but
there were other ten'ors in prison which woidd thus be*
left behind. I made a copy of a map of Charleston
and vicinity, determined to try my luck the fiist dark,

204 THE soldier's story.

rainy night, favorable to siich an undertaking. M}
plans were vague and general, the idea of getting to
the water, and obtaining sometliing to float upon dovna
the harbor in the night, being uppermost ; or, if I did
not get a boat or a log, to get into the city, and trust
to some of tlie German people for a suit of clothes or
concealment. At any rate my condition might be
bettered, and could scarcely be made worse.

Under the inspiration of these ideas, one rainy night
in Septemlier, milking a confidant of no one, I crawled
beyond the guard. I could hear their measured tramp,
and one stood so near to me that I could hear him
breathe. Indeed, I thought myself perceived, when he
wheeled upon his heel and walked his post in another
direction, giving me a good opportmiity to creep by.
I got to a safe distance from the sentinel, then rising to
my feet, ran towards the north part of the Fair Ground,
forced my way tlu'ough the dense foliage which enclosed
it, when tlierc biurst upon my vision with lurid glare,
ahead and about me, a number of camp fires, around
which soldiers gathered. " Halt ! " came the sharp
salutation, close on my left. I heeded not the com-
mand, but ran, steering midway between two fires.
" Halt ! " " Halt ! " simultaneously came the order from
nght and left of me. Still I ran on. Bang! bang!
bang ! rang the report of three or four rifles, aimed true
enough for me to hear the angry z-z-z-z-t of the bullets
as they whispered death around my ears. Close upon
me, right ahead again, came the order, "Halt!" T

ESCAPE — EECAPTURE. 205

halted, answering the summons, "Who goes there?"
which i*apidly" followed the command, " Halt ! " bj i-eply-
ing, " A friend." " Yank, sun*ender ! " laughingly called
out the sentinel. I obeyed promptly, as I heard hin)
bring Ins musket to a full cock, with an ominous click,
and saw uncomfortably near me the gleaming of the
jjolished musket. All this occm-red in less time than I
have taken to relate it. " Wliat in dosf-sond-ation was
yer tryin' to do ? " interrogated the Johnny. " Trying
to pick up some warm quarters," I responded, as I
walked to the fire and commenced wanning myself.
" Reckon yer found it dimied warm, when the Charles-
ton Guards commenced to blaze at yer, old boss ! "
laughed my captor. I tried to show my contempt by
saying, "O, that's nothing when one is used to it."
"1 leckon I'd er let daylight through yer, before yer got
used to it, if yer hadn't stopped 'bout as yer did." I
laughed at liim, thinking it best to take things easy,
while he called the officer of the guard. "Well, 111
be dumed," said he, slapping my shoulder as a compli-
ment, "if yer am't right smart, for a Yank, any way."
Wliile waiting for the officer of the guard, one of the
sentinels gave me a hard cracker, and my captor pre-
sented to me a generous slice of " sow-belly," which, I
couldn't help thinking, was an ample reward for the
risks I had run. The officer of the guard came up, and
began to question me as to how I got beyond the sen-
tinels of the prison grounds. "Bribed them," replied
I, not caring what answer I made, so long as I did not

206 THE soldier's STORY.

give him any information. He looked at me from head
to foot, seriously, for a second, then, as if struck with
my picturesque costume of rags, smiled and chuckled,
as if intensely amused, and said, " They must have
tooken a mighty slim bribe."

I slept by the warm fire, under guard, that night,
and the next morning was sent to the workhouse, iu
the city. This building was of brick, built on three
eides of a square, with two towers, one of which, I
noticed, had been split down, by collision of solid shot or
shell, from top to bottom. Under the arched ways of
the building, which led from the yard, were two rudely-
constructed ovens, used by the officers for cooking their
food. In the budding were the quarters of Federal
officers. The windows w^ere heavily grated. In the
yard was a high lookout tower, from which could be
seen the jail-yard adjoining. I staid here two days,
congratulating myself on my improved quarters, which,
in contrast with the Fair Ground, were very comfort-
able, though I was not allowed inside the building,
and I was only fearful of being sent back to the Race
Course. While prying around in the archways of the
building, I found, in one corner of a dark doorway, a
bundle of documents which threw light upon the pur-
pose for which the building had formerly been used,
and the manner in which slaves were committed for
punishment. The following is a sample of a fcAV in my
possession : —

RETURNED TO PRISON. 207

" Master of the Workhouse : Receive Jerry, and put
him in sol. con. RoB. Rowand.

Aug. 14, '56."

"July 10, '58.
"Master of Workhouse : Receive the girl, Mary, give
lier (15) fifteen paddles, and return to me.

Sam'l Watson."

"Master of the Workhouse : Give Hulda 5 paddles,
put her in confinement 12 hours, and return to me.
Jan. 20, '56. J. Ricker."

On the morning of the third day, to my great dis-
gust, I was sent to the Fair Ground, under guard. I
kept pretty still about my adventure, being a little
ashamed of not escaping after so many trials, and my
comrades merely remarked that they hadn't seen me
around for a day or two, and did not know but that
I had had my "toes tied together." That day I hunted
up Jesse L., who was formerly a comrade in the engi-
neer corps, and re-formed a kind of partnership, which
had been, for a time, suspended — to sleep under the
same shred of a blanket, cook, hunt vermin together,
and take turns watching each other's traps, while one
was in quest of potato peelings or drawing rations.
Jesse was a good-natured fellow, who was accustomed
to say of himself that he could " scarcely draw breath
on the rations he drew, and was running down so fast
he couldn't run around." He was capable of laughing
at any amount of misery, and baffled and held death at

208 THE soldier's story.

arms' length by ingenious devices ; and his " devil-may-
care " temperament, which nothing could daunt, and his
irrepressible drollery, which would bubble up from the
midst of misery, made him a desirable companion, to
lighten the loads of despair which hung around us like
a pall of midnight darkness.

Colonel Iverson had left the command of the camp,
and we were miserably starved and neglected, having,
often, the mockery of uncooked rations issued us, when
there was not a chip or stick in the whole camp with
which to cook. It was during one of these periods
of extra starvation, when we had not had food for forty-
eight hours, when the strongest men among us, through
weakness, staggered and fell in endeavoring to walk,
that a well-dressed officer from the city rode to the en-
trance, as it was termed, where rations were usually
issued, and made to the prisoners there congregated,
waiting in hopes of receiving rations, the proposition
to go out and work. The following, as near as I can
recollect, was the substance and manner of his propo-
sition.

"We wish you to work down on the islands, under
guard, as prisoners ; it is work which any of you can
do — which, as soldiers, you have been accustomed to.
You won't have to take a musket : there are none com-
pelled to go ; but those, after what I have said here,
who do volunteer to go, will be made to perform the
work required of them, whether they like it or not. In
return, we will give you rations of flour, meat, rum,
and tobacco."

GOOD EITECTS OF A SPEECH. 209

Ah, well do I remember that the very mention of
fresh meat and flom' was enough, almost, to craze me
at that time. I remember how wishful and longing
those poor fellows looked. Yet I had seen so much
of their constancy unde: suffering, that I was not pre-
pared to hear them clamor as they did to go out and
work for food. It was a cruel temptation. The poor
fellows had become childish, and knew not what they
were doing. Said an old Belle Island prisoner, stand-
ing at my side, "Some one ought to speak to these
men ; they are crazy with hunger." Under an uncon-
trollable impulse, I clambered upon an empty rice cask,
and commenced to speak. "Wait," said the officer,
addressing me, "until I leave." After this he said,
"All those who wish to avail themselves of the oppor-
tunity, may go and get their traps, and be ready about
dark to leave the prison." He bowed to me, and say-
ing, "You can now listen to your friend," withdrew a
short distance out of camp, sitting on his horse, where
he could hear what was said.

My theme had in it inspiration. I think I never did,
nor ever shall, speak with such effect as then. I com-
menced by saying, "This rebel officer has honorably
stated what he requires of you. You understand that
he wishes you to dig rifle pits for our enemies, though
he has not squarely said so. However honorable it may
be for him to make this proposition to hungry, suffering
men, it is treason for you to accept." I then spoke to
them of their homes, of their friends, of the cause, and
14

210 THE soldier's STORY.

tlie pride they would feel when, some day, they shoiJd
again stand under the old flag, true men, not traitors.
I closed by saying, "I, too, am starving: it is the
work of our enemies. You can see written all over me
'Long imprisonment.' We are famishing, but let us
show our enemies that we are not hirelings, but patriots ;
that we can die, but will not be dishonored. Is there
one here, after suffering for so glorious a cause, that
will band himself with traitors ? " " No," " No," " No,"
"No," "Go on," "Go on," came the answers, like a pa^an
of victory, from the lips of starving men — truly a vic-
tory of truth over death.

It was said some went out that night, after dark. I
did not see them, and can only wonder that the desire
for life was not strong enough to prompt more to go.
Many, who had clamored to go, when the officer first
made the proposition to them, came up to me, and, with
tears, thanked me — thanked me for keeping food from
their lips at such a price. Poor, noble fellows ! One
of my company boys was among the number, and said,
"It was the right kind of talk, Sarge ; " and tears
streamed down his shrunken cheeks as he said, "I
suppose I shall die before I get out ; but I had better,
for I couldn't look mother or sis in the face after being
a traitor." Poor, noble fellow ! he did die not a week
from that day, and, as his pale face rises unbidden
to memory, I can scarce but reproach myself that
words of mine prevented him from saving life at even
such a price. "My heart rose up in my throat," said

A PICTUEESQUE OKATOR. 211

another, "at thought of the Stars and Stripes, and I
wouldn't go for a brigadier-general's commission in the
Home Guards."

Imagine me as an orator, clothed in picturesque rags.
My wardrobe consisted of a pair of pants, remnants of
a shirt, which hung in tatters from the neck-band, and
an old torn hat, which looked like a letter A, rent by a
dog. My pants were full of holes — so many mouths
eloquent of misery. A decently-dressed, better-fed
prisoner would not, perhaps, have aiFected my comrades
by words so easily. It was because I was one of them,
suiTering with them, that they listened so earnestly and
responded so eloquently. Their hearts were right, and
needed only a monitor.

Sunday afternoons were holidays among the negroes
of Charleston, and, dressed in their best "clo'es," they
came to get a " peek " at the Yankees. They acted like
overgrown children, and, when the Secesh artillerists
pointed the guns towards them, as if to shoot, they ran
screaming away.

During the last of September, two citizen prisoners
of our number went down Charleston Harbor on the
rebel flag-of-truce boat, expecting to be paroled or
exchanged. One of them was paroled, and, as no
arrangements could be made for the disposal of the
o^-her, he was brought back. In sight of the old flag
and the friendly uniform, and then to be dragged again
to an imprisonment which was to end — when or how
no one knew — how great a disappointment ! The poor

212 THE soldier's stoey.

fellow pined away, lost courage, and soon died. Better
for him had he never sailed down the harbor, with high
hope of liberty, that pleasant morning.

About this time it was rumored that the yellow fever
had made its appearance in camp and in the city. But
there were so many rumors continually in cii'culatiou
among us, that we knew not what credence to give
them. October came, and we were told that a removal
of the prisoners would at once be commenced. A num-
ber of cases of the yellow fever had occurred in town,
and humanity, no less than the sanitary condition of the
city, demanded our removal. I would have been will-
ing to remain behind and take the risks, as, on the
whole, our condition was liable to be worse at any
other place than here.

A detachment of prisoners was sent away the first of
October, and about two thousand every two days contin-
ued to be sent off, until the camp was cleared. On or
about the seventh day, all the remaining squads of the
prison, except the hospital department, were ordered to
be ready to move on the morrow. About dark a pint
of beans, a half pint of Indian meal, and a few spoon-
fuls of rice were issued to each man, for three days'
rations. We got no wood to cook it with. That even-
ing Jesse and myself cut into small pieces the sticks
used to raise our blanket on, and, obtaining lialf of a
canteen to cook in, commenced to prepare our rations.
First, we boiled the beans, — of course without salt or
pork ; and, as we had no means of taking them with

LUDICROUS mCIDENTS. 213

US, and were hungry, ate them, for convenience and
to keep them safe from pilferers. Then we boiled
our rice, and, stirring up the Indian meal with it,
cooked a johnny-cake in our canteen. All around us,
gathered in anxious groups, were men engaged in sim-
ilar occupations, and the casualties happening were
curiously ludicrous. Men were continually falling into
the shallow wells around them. It being the last night,
the prisoners used such fuel as they had liberally, and
indulged quite freely in pitch-pine torches. Every mo-
ment or two might be heard a " chug " and splash, which
proclaimed that some wandering star had fallen from
its orbit into a well. The position was more vexing
and comical than dangerous. I had been not a little
amused at seeing others precipitated into wells, and had
made up my mind that I would keep out of them. How
fallible are all resolves ! While creeping on hands and
knees, and not thinking of the proximity of wells, I
was suddenly j)recipitated head foremost into one about
six feet deep. Jesse caught me in the act of scrambling
out, and, as I sat rubbing the sand out of my hau-, and
trying to keep the water from running down my back,
he commenced to poke fun at me. "Ben in bathin',
old fellow ? Better stand on yer head, and let it drain
off," said he, referring to the moisture, elevating his
torch, so as to get a better view, and stepping back,
chuckling. Suddenly, splash went something, and
Jesse was invisible : he had disappeared into the recesses
of the earth. It was then my turn to laugh. Thus

214 THE soldier's story.

we made merry over our misery, which, ordinarily,
would have dampened the fun of most people. Was
it not as well to laugh as cry ?

The morning dawned, and found our rations cooked
into a mysterious, black-looking substance, which
we called a johnny-cake. We fell into line when
the order came, in a hurry to see what fate and the
Johnnies would do with us next. We were speedily
marched to the northern entrance of the Fair Ground,
where, after going through with a good deal of the usual
counting, we were packed on board of box cars, and
went slowly on our way in a northerly direction.

As the cars were leaving Charleston we caught a
glimpse of the Federal officers, who were embarked on
board of box cars, en route, as I afterwards understood,
for Columbia. Along on the railway, for quite a dis-
tance out of Charleston, were families of white people,
living in box cars, having then- beds, and kitchen fur-
niture, and stoves therein. This I had noticed in all my
transportations through Secessia. At Macon and other
points it was quite as common as on the double and
turn-out tracks near Charleston.

Our route from Charleston to Florence was unmarked
by extraordinary occurrences. There were several men
shot by the guard, while trying to escape by jumping
from the cars while in motion. At every stopping-
place those of our number who had died during trans-
portation were left along the route for burial. A dick-
ering trade was kept up along the way between the

ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE. 215

guard, who were stationed on the top of the cars,
and the prisoners. At one place where we stopped
to wood up, while the vigilance of the guard was
relaxed, I slyly got off the cars and crept under
the platform of the depot, and was much chagrined
when one of the Johnnies came along and stirred me
out of my hiding-place, with admonitions to "git into
them thar cars."

216 THE soldier's story.

CHAPTER XII .

Imprisonment at Florence. — An affecting Scene. — Inhumanity of
Rebel Authorities. — The Stockade similar to that at Andersonville
— Precautions against Tunnelling. — Disrespect of Rebels to their
Chief. — Poor Shelter. — Afterwards improved. — Suffering from
Cold. — Scanty Rations. — Woodcutters detailed. — Dreadful An-
noyance by Vermin. — PoUce organized under Big Peter. — The
Force perverted to bad Purposes. — Despondency at the Pros-
pects. — Further Attempts to purchase Treason. — Despair has its
Effects. — An Apology for the poor Fellows. — Their Hope of Es-
cape while in Rebel Service. — Some of them shot as Deserters. —
Sublime Heroism. — Colonel Iverson again. — A Brutal Under
officer. — Good News. — The Arrival of Clotliing. — A scanty
Supply. — The Hospital flanked for a good Meal. — The Clouds
breaking. — More Food. — Statement of Colonel Iverson that Food
was limited by Orders. — Interest in Presidential Election. — Vote
by Prisoners. — Majority for Lincoln.

IT was pitch dark and raining furiously when we
arrived at Florence, our destination. We were
marched into a field, and took up our quarters among
the hillocks, where had once been a cornfield. Water
and mud combined to make the ground an uncomforta-
ble bed that night. During the night a large number
died. Willard Robinson, who had been complaining
some few days, died that night M-hile lying under the
same blanket with his father. The morning dawned,
and the unhappy parent found his son lifeless by his side.

TREATMENT OF THE DEAD. 217

Smitten with grief, the father sat by the side of his dead
boy, who had shared with him the perils of battle, and
had been a companion in all the misfortunes and mis-
eries of imprisonment. That father, who had more
than once refused to purchase life by dishonor, would
see that son no more. It was agonizing, but harder
still the sequel. We went to the officer of the guard,
and entreated for permission to bury the body. This
poor boon for the father was refused. We then asked
that the father might have the privilege of seeing him
buried. This, too, was refused us. Their ears were
deaf to the father's pleading — their eyes wer.e blinvl to
his tearful sorrow. The father spread the poor remnants
of his handkei-chief over the face of his dead son, folded
his dear hands — it was all he could do. With a heart
breaking with grief, he turned to leave him there, never
to meet until the glory of a brighter morning should
brino; them too^ether.* Not darin"' to look behind lest
we should see rough hands stripping the dear body, we
turned and commenced our march for the prison, —
about a third of a mile distant.

At last a " stockade " similar to that of Andersonville
loomed up before us. We were marched through the
gates, which were closed upon us, to be opened, perhaps,
never again during life. We were assigned to a por-
tion of the stockade, and set ourselves at work to better
our condition. The prison, like that of Andersonville,

* This was the last of several young boys who joined our company
from the same New England village — South Scituate.

218 THE soldier's story.

was situated on two liiU-sides, with a branch of mudd)'
water running tlu'ough the centre, embracing, in all,
about twenty acres. To prevent tunnelling, on the
outside a ditch was dug, the dirt from which was
thro^vn against the stockade, forming a kind of walk
around the entire prison, wliich brought the top of the
stockade breast high to the sentinels, who constantly
walked their posts. These sentinels did not seem to
have the fear of Jeff or the Confederacy before their
eyes, as, when at night the hourly cry Avent round, they
often closed their "—o'clock, and all is well," with a
poetical flourish of their own — "And old Jeff's gone
to h — 1." "What regiment do you belong to?" I in-
quired of one of them on the morning of my anival.
"I belong to the fifth Georgia; Cheatham, he's our
adjutant." I afterwards found out who Cheatham was
— a comical, jolly grayback as ever graced the Con-
federacy.

Four others, with myself, formed a mess, and com-
menced constructing a shelter. For this purpose we
dug a hole in the hill-side, about three feet deep. Two
sticks were then set into the ground, across which was
tied a third for a ridge-pole. Over this was stretched
an army blanket. The front and rear ends, of course,
were open, as we had nothing with which to stop them
up. When it rained, we sometimes stopped up one
end with our garments. In this grave-like place four
human beings lodged, kept their "traps," and called it
their home. We found sufficient wood for cookuigr

SUFFERING FROM COLD. 219

purposes by peeling the bark from the stumps of tiees,
while those who had the implements cut and dug at the
stumps for fuel. A week or two after my arrival, I
obtained permission to go outside the prison under
guard, and get material for completing our apology
for a tent, and returned rejoicing with as much un-
trinuued pine brush as I could drag. We stripped
off the pine pins, and put them in at the bottom of
our shelter, making a very aristoci"atic bed, which few
in prison enjoyed. We then patched up the rear of
our "shebang" with pine limbs, which made altogether
quite comfortable quarters, compared with what we had
formerly enjoyed. But we needed all this, and more
too, to make up for want of circulation and vitality in
our scurvy-stricken bodies, and for the inclemency of a
South Carolina winter, which, however sunny the South
is said to be, was very cold. I never suffered more
with cold than at this time. The days were usually
quite warm, but, from sundown to ten o'clock in the
morning, it was, to our poorly clad, emaciated bodies,
bitterly cold. My clothes, which I have before de-
scribed, were full of holes, and my feet were bare.
The frost in the mornings was like snow on the ground,
and often, through fear of freezing or being chilled to
death, barefooted men walked up and down the prison
all night, longing, through intense suffering, for morn-
ing to come. Often, in the dead hours of midnight, I
walked the frosty ground, pierced with the sharp winds
which mercilessly sought out every hole in my scanty

220 THE soldier's story.

wardrobe, and the next day took my revenge by sleep-
ing in the sunshine to make up for lost sleep.

From the day of my arrival in camj), I commenced
making use of hard wood ashes and water to clean and
rinse my mouth, and soon had the satisfaction to k.iow
that it was counteracting the effects of scui'vy. Our
rations at this place were as scanty as at Charleston.
Our divisions for the issue of rations were the same.
In no place did prisoners suffer so intensely, and yet in
no prison Avas the commanding officer so inclined to
make us comfortable. Nothing, however, short of a
complete change in their mode of living could now.
benefit the majority of prisoners. A large number
of men, after a few Aveeks, were paroled to remain
outside the prison dming the day to cut wood for the
use of the camp, Avliile our police were urged by the
colonel commanding into building log shelters for those
of the sick who could not help themselves, and made
to keej) the prison quite clean and orderly.

As it was impossible to obtain water Avithout going
into the mud and water over knee before getting to the
branch or brook which was the only supply of the
prison, there Avere men Avho made a business of obtain-
ing Avater for others, the common fee for so doing being
a " chaw of tobacco." " Who Avants a pail or canteen
of water for a chaAV of tobacco?" Avas as common a
clamor as "Have a hack?" "HaA^e a hack?" at our
metropolitan railroad stations. Near, the brook a hun-
dred or more men would be gathered, who would feel

ANNOYiVXCE FEOM VERMIN. 221

repaid for half a day's waiting, wading, &c., with one
or two diminutive chews of tobacco. Sometimes might
be seen men around camp seUing the proceeds of these
labors for rations.

During the summer we had been annoyed with flies,
mosquitos, fleas, and all such kindred plagues. As
cold weather advanced, we got clear of these ; but a
greater annoyance set in, little dreamed of. The ver-
min, not troublesome in warm weather, now, as the
cold set in, took the benefit of the warmth of our
bodies, swarming from our blankets and the ground
upon our persons. Night or day there was no peace
with them ; they would not be still. Scratching only
pleased them ; for, where the skin was once started,
they went to work eating into the flesh. The results
were frightful, loathsome sores. I have seen sick per-
sons whose flesh was eaten almost to the bone. I can-
not, however, say whether the vermin ate the flesh, or
only produced the irritation followed by scratching,
which may have caused the sores. However disgust-
ing such details, it is necessary that I should record
them in order that the general reader may understand
our condition.

At Florence the police organization, as I have inti-
nated, was again revived under Big Peter as "chief of
police." Their ofiices consisted in seeing to the police
duties of the camp, guarding against the perpetration
of nuisances, constructing shelter, procuring fuel for
those not able to help themselves, and the carrying out

22-2 THE soldier's story.

of the dead. Under these arrangements, the carnp
became clean and orderly, wood was more regularly
divided and dealt out, and the dead cared for more
decently than before. There can be no disj)uting
that they accomplished much good. But even this
organization was perverted into a tool of the rebels
for detecting the work on tunnels, and punishing those
who dug them by thirty stripes upon the bare back
with a cat-o'-nine-tails. " Big Pete " becoming pros-
trated with a fever, a gigantic, ignorant brute, with
neither the good sense, good humor, nor the disposi-
tion to deal justly, which were characteristic of Peter,
took his place as " chief of police," and under his
misrule cowardly acts were perpetrated upon prisonci's.
Those who incurred the displeasure of the rebels, or
their tool, the " chief," were tied to a whipping-post,
and were mercilessly punished upon the bare back
with that classic instrument, a cat-o'-nine-tails. Ser-
geant English, of a New York regiment, had once
been instrumental in bringing this big brute before
the prison tribunal at Andersonville for the murder
of one of his company or regimental boys. On some
trivial excuse, the chief brought Sergeant English to
the whipping-post, and, before even a form of trial
was through with, and while yet his hands Avere j3in-
ioned behind him, struck him repeatedly in the face
with his clinched fist. It was only through the
instrumentality of Lieutenant Barrett, of the prison,
that he got a trial, and, nothing being proved against

TAJMPEEING WITH PEISONERS. 223

him, he was released. Sergeant English then said he
would have justice ; and I only wonder that S. has
never since been brouo;ht to trial for his brutal outrajjes
against prisoners.

In November the cold became so intense, our rations
so inadequate for the maintenance of health, the pros-
pects of an exchange before the close of the war so
vague, and the chances for life so uncertain, that the
strongest heart recoiled at thoughts of the future.
Broken in health and spirits, they cast despairingly
around them in search of some means by which to
escape from the impending doom wliich threatened
them. Terrible were those days and nights of torture
and death, from which there seemed no release. Most
of the prisoners whose heax-ts had been buoyed so long by
hope of exchange, parole, or deliverance by raids, now
sank in despondency. Taking advantage of this hope-
lessness among prisoners, a recruiting station for the
Confederate army Avas opened near the stockade, the
officers of which came into prison for recruits. There
were some among us so hopeless, so lost to every
feeling but hunger, that they bartered their honor for
food, and took the oath of allegiance to the detested
Confederacy. Let those who blame them consider that
these men had been suffering the torments of Anderson-
ville, Belle Island, Salisbury, Charleston, and Millen,
for many dreary months, and now before them was a
hopeless winter, without clothes to cover their naked-
ness, food sufficient to preserve health, or blankcLs

224 THE soldier's story.

to wrap themselves iu at night. Some, considering
an oath taken at such a time not binding, went out
only to risk their lives in an escape. Jimmy, a boy
about fifteen years of age, had no blanket or cooking
utensils. He was continually obliged to beg for the
use of them from some one more fortunate. In his
destitution, he had to walk nights to keep from being
chilled completely through, which, with men in prison,
was usually followed by death. His life was crowded
Avith inexpressible misery. For weeks brave Jimmy
endured these miseries. He had refused at Charleston
to go out and work ; but at last the tempter prevailed :
he went out, took the oath, had enough to eat for one
week, and was shot, it was said, while trying to escape
the next.

Many died rather than stain their lips with the
dishonor of such an oath. D. P. Robinson, whom I
have twice before mentioned, had it urged upon him
thus to save his life. His answer was, "My boy is
dead. I shall go with the boy." Simple words, yet
heroic. "Death rather than dishonor" has been sub-
limely uttered by orators and novelists, but never was
its import so heroically realized as in many instances
like those daily occurring in prison. I was, however,
sometimes grieved to see men in comparatively good
healtli going out to take the oath, men who possessed
a blanket or overcoat. N. L. and A. H., men of my
battalion, were of this number, in spite of promises
made to me a few moments before. When my back

GREAT HEROISM. 225

was turned they went out to the recruiting office. So
great was the indignation of the prisoners at the con-
duct of such men, that the rebels had continually to
protect them by a guard. The rebels had no respect
for them, and distinguished them from the genuine gray-
backs by the significant term of "Galvanized Yanks."
It was true that a few under terrible suffering, with
death looking them in their faces, took the oath as the
last hope of life. Yet I cannot but be amazed at the
general constancy with which starving men repudiated
such conduct while surrounded by suffering and death.
There are but few instances recorded where men
exposed to such temptations so resolutely acted, suf-
fered, and died for the right.

The hero who gives his life for a cause, while shouts
of comrades cheer his heart, thrilling with grand emo-
tions, is looked upon with admiration. But he who
suffers gradual starvation, temptation, and despair, for
many, many weary months, and at last seals his devo-
tion with death, is he not the truest hero? Many a
one lies to-day in his prison grave, which bears no
name or mark to tell how he died, or what he suffered,
or how true he was to the cause for which he renounceci
home, happiness, and life ; but a grateful nation will
recognize and remember in coming time the devotion
which has done so much to perpetuate and preserve
national life and honor.

Lieutenant-Colonel Iverson was in command of the
prison, and a lieutenant named Barrett had the sup er-
15

22 G THE soldier's story.

vision of its interior. He was a rough, green, conceited
brute, who never spoke without blasphemy, and never
gave a civil word, or did a kind deed for any prisoner
— a man with as few of the elements of good in liis
nature as I ever knew. I have always wondered that
a man like Iverson tolerated such a coarse brute.
I cannot account for it unless I take as an explanation
an expression which I once heard him utter : " Barrett
is just rough enough to scare the Yankees, and make
them stand round." It was a task Iverson was too
kind-hearted to take upon himself. Iverson paroled
eight hundred men to cut wood for the prison, and
continually urged upon our police, to whom he gave
extra rations, the building of shelter, &c., for the
destitute. But this took time, and meanwhile hundreds
were dying. It was not life, it was mere existence.

From the time I made my escape from Anderson-
ville I was troubled with aching limbs, which, after my
release, terminated in paralysis of my legs, and left
side, from which, I have not as yet recovered suf-
ficiently to walk without a crutch.

About the first of November came the joyful an-
nouncement that clothes had arrived from Charleston,
sent by our Sanitary Commission. The excitement
among the prisoners was very great, and a hundred
at a time were marched to the prison entrance, to be
inspected and supplied according to their merits of
raggedness. But the supply was inadequate to make
us anything like comfortable. Some poor creatures,

SCANTT SUPPLY OF CLOTHING. 227

who for months had been without blanket or coat,
got one, robed themselves in it straightway, and
lay down, as if they had reached lit last their idea}
of comfort. The police did much to distribute these
articles of clothing where they justly belonged. I
had no shirt. Some shreds simply, hanging from the
neck-band, proclaimed that my person had once rejoiced
in such an article. I had no shoes, and holes formed
the principal part of my breeches. All my ingenuity
could not make my wardrobe break joints to cover my
nakedness. Yet there were so many worse off than
myself ihat I was justly overlooked until the last.
When it became certain that no more urgent cases
were to be supplied, then I got a cotton shirt. This
I was, lucky enough to swap for a red flannel one, in
the possession of which I was positively happy for a
time.

Somewhere near this period the south-west corner of
the stockade was separated from the main prison for a
hospital. Here rude barracks were built, and outsiders,
n( t regularly admitted, were kept out by a police force
detailed from the prison. Once I escaped their keen
eyes, and flanked into the hospital, where a friend gaxo
me such a stomacliful of wheat bread and sweet potato
soup that its very remembrance gladdened me for
weeks. Thus slowly the clouds began to break, and
luck turned in my favor. There were men in pi'ison
who bought four or five sweet potatoes of the rebel
sutler, and, cooking them, sold enoigh to buy again,

228 THE SOIDIER's STORY.

and get one for themselves. One morning I drew In
dian meal for my ration, and traded it for a sweet
potato. This was not so much in bulk as the half pint
of meal, but the potato seemed to do me more good ;
and thereafter, when I could, I traded off my rations
for sweet potatoes, under which diet, and my habit of
daily bathing, if I did not gain strength, I managed to
keep Avhat little I had. Sergeant Charles Stone, of a
Maine regiment, gave me at this time about a dozen
potatoes. I shared them Avith comrades, and as the
irrepressible Jess described it afterwards, "The way
we walked into those potatoes " would have made the
reader smile to behold.

At one time officers came into the prison, covertly
buying greenbacks of the prisoners. As they went out
of prison. Colonel Iverson caused them to be arrested,
seized upon the greenbacks, and devoted the money so
obtained to buying potatoes for the sick prisoners. I
state these facts fi'om a sense of justice towards a mau
who showed consideration for prisoners. Though Iver-
son did harsh things through his red-headed brute tool,
Barrett, such as hanging men by the thumbs, &c., in
the main he intended to deal justly by the prisoners,
which had been unusual in my prison experience. He
once stated to me that the men would get more food if
he was not positively limited by the quantity and quality
issued to him for that purpose. He could issue no more
than he had.

Before the presidential election at the Nortli, the reb-

INTEREST IN THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION. 229

els evinced intense interest in its result. They were
anxious for McClellan's election over Lincoln, or, at
least, for Lincoln's defeat. To test the sentiments of the
prisoners, and thus form some estimate of the manner
the States v^ould go in the pending election, on the day
of election two bags were placed on the inside of the
stockade. Those who were in favor of Lincoln were
to put a black bean into a bag, and those for McClellan
were to vote white beans, which were provided for this
purpose. We were marched by hundreds, and depos-
ited our ballots. It was understood that if a majority
of votes were cast for Little Mac, we should get extra
rations that day. The result of the ballot was about
fifteen hundred for McClellan and six thousand for
Lincoln. There were about ten thousand men in the
camp, but all did not vote. The rebels were disap-
pointed at the result. When the vote was declared, the
prisoners gathered at the place of election, cheering
and singing patriotic songs, and Colonel Iverson for-
bade their being interrupted.

230 THE soldier's story.

CHAPTER XIII.

Philosophy of Humor in Suffering. — Natural for Men to seek for
Sunlight. — Smiles and Tears. — Lightness of Heart. — Jesse L.
a Sample. — His comical Demeanor. — Jess as a Pair of Bellolrs.
— A queer Remark. — Dealing out Rations. — All Eyes on the
Meal-bag. — Squeezing the Haversack. — Eyes big with Hunger. —
Jesse's Tactics. — Raising the black Flag. — More Truth than Po-
etry.— Jack E. — Herbert Beckwith. — Jess cooking under Diffi-
culties.— Scurvy. — Combination of Disease, &c. — Torturing
Memories. — Character developed by Suffering. — Artliur H.
Smith. — A Break. — Death of Comrades. — A Political Creed. —
Escape by Bribery. — Coincidences. — Instances of them. — De-
cember, 1864. — A Call for Clerks. — Colonel Iverson's Surprise.

UNDER the circumstances described in the forego-
ing chapters, it may seem to the general reader
inconsistent with human nature that those ho situated
should see and realize anything like the grotesque and
humorous in the kind of life Avhich, as prisoners, we
endured. This is true as applying to the many ; but
gleams of wit and fun were all the more striking when
contrasted with the dark background of prison misery.
In reading these pages, it may sometimes appear to
critical readers, that the autlior has exhibited too great
a disposition to indulge in levity or humorous delinea-
tions, to satisfy them that he was, after all, so great a
sufferer, and that the horrors of prison life, as depicted,

PHILOSOPHY IN SUFTEEING. 231

were not overdrawn, or, at least, exceptional in their
application. Human nature remains the same under
all conditions, and, though modified by circumstances,
must act itself out, strange though some of its phases
may appear. Humanity is complex and curious as a
study, especially when seen under extraordinary cir-
cumstances, where the conventional courtesies of eti-
quette, which mask the character of most men in the
common conditions of society, are dropped, or cast aside
unknowingly from its features.

There is a physical and mental disposition, common
among most men, when their condition is overcast b}''
the gloomy shadows of misery and want, to seek foi
and enjoy some ray of the sunshine to which they may
have been accustomed, however little there may be.
So, in our prison sufferings, if we could sometimes get
glimpses of anything like, or even suggestive of, the sun-
hght of other and better circumstances, amid the gloom
of our squalidness, we were inclined to enjoy and
appreciate it, though the elements from which tho
gayety or humor would be produced, were often, per-
haps, more properly causes of agonizing tears than
of hilarity or glee. Lamentations and laughter, min-
gling together, as is frequently seen in children, were
phenomena sometimes witnessed among the prisoners.
In this manner the one element mitigated the keenness
of mental and physical sufferings produced by the
other, without which, often, the one, if not beyond en-
durance, would have proved much harder to bear. In

232 THE soldier's story.

^his way Nature sometimes kindly tempers the wind<
of adverse circumstances to the shorn lambs of wretch-
edness. There are several causes contributing to pro-
duce this condition of mind, but first among them is
the disposition to make the best of one's circumstances,
practicalizing the old adage, "It is no use to cry for
spilt milk."

All reflective minds seem intuitively to assume that
nothing can be gained by taking gloomy views of un-
happy circumstances, over which they have no control ;
that it is better to be merry than sad ; better the laugh
should well up from a sinking heart than to give ex-
pression to groans of despondency, for these outward
expressions are oftentimes instrumental in producing a
joyous or saddened condition of mind. To one whom
Nature has gifted with much buoyancy or lightness of
heart, who has, perhaps, a keen appreciation of the
ridiculous, there are no cu'cumstances where the com-
binations of the ludicrous are so often possible as in the
midst of the most extreme misery. There seems, amid
such scenes, to be but one step from the tragic to the
laughable, and the transition is so readily and easily made
from the one to the other, without change of scenery
or character, that feelings of mirthfulness and lamenta-
tions not unfrequently mingle in the same utterances.
This is, seemingly, typical of their relations, and sym-
bolizing the narrow division which, once overstepped on
either side, readily produces either of the two extremes.
The squalid and ill-conditioned cu-cumstances of the

OPPOSITES OF CHARACTER. 233

peasantry of Ireland seem to have given them a love
for drollery and an appreciation of the humors, conceits,
and vagaries which will often spring up and group
themselves around great poverty.

There were usually two opposites of character con-
tinually mingling together in prison, one borrowing
gloom from the future, the other more hopeful, with
tendencies constantly uppermost to laugh at the ridic-
ulous and comical, seen gleaming through the clouds
of despondent wretchedness. Blessed was he who re-
tained this happy disposition ; who, forgetful, for the
moment, of himself, could still find in his heart the
elements of mirth and humor. It increased his chances
of life, when others, of opposite mould of character, were
almost sure to die. Jesse L. whom I have more than
once alluded to in this narrative, was a fine sample of
this phase of character — a man whom no amount of
suffering from short rations and cold could dampen or
dismay. If he ever entertained serious thoughts, he
kept them to himself, or made them known in so droll
a manner as to make one laugh in spite of hunger and
other miseries. A certain comical grimness in his phys-
iognomy was heightened by a dirty face, where, per-
haps, a few tears, shed over others' misfortunes, or a
smoky fire, had worked lines of queer and grotesque
import, which an artist's pencil rarely could have imi-
tated or excelled. On one momentous occasion, when
a dish of mush trembled in the balance and was found
wanting, for the need of fire to cook it, Jess desper-

234 THE soldier's story.

ately turned himself into a pair of bellows . and, tha?
engaged, blew about all the strength and wind out of
his half-starved body, until, at last, despairing of ob-
taining any flame, he looked up, coughed, and, with an
inimitable grimace, said, "Look 'ere, Sarge ; just help
me — can't you?" Seeing how fruitless he had been in
developments, I modestly disclaimed having any ability
in the blowing line. "Well," said Jess, winking and
coughing with smoke, "you might put one hand on my
stomach and the other on my back, and squeeze a little
more wind out of me at that smoke."

The dealing out of rations for a squad of twenty
men was an interesting daily performance, spiced with
hunger and an anxiety on the part of each to get as
much if not more than his comrades. On such occa-
sions, in my squad Jesse usually officiated with a
spoon, dealing around, in regular order, one spoonful
of meal and then another, until it was all given out.
At times it of course overran more than even spoon-
fuls to the whole, sometimes half of us getting one more
than the rest. This was equalized by commencing to
deal out the rations where, on the day previous, they
left off giving the extra spoonful. Each man had a
number, by which, at ration time, he was known. Dur-
ing such a performance, the meal-bag, or haversack,
was the focus of all the twenty eyes interested in its
fair distribution. Dead silence reigned throughout the
squad. More solemnity and anxiety could not have
been infused into any other transaction of our life than

DEALING OP RATIONS. 235

was given to this matter, so near our hearts. Great
interest was usually shown in having the bag, or haver-
sack, in which was contained the meal, well shaken and
scraped of its contents. One day the flour which was
issued went but little over three heaping spoonfuls
apiece, and hungry eyes were turned to that common
centre, the meal-bag. Jesse turned the haversack,
shook it, and scraped it with desperation, knitting his
brow, then, looking grimly around on each silent, anx^
ious face, with a twitch at the corners of his mouth,
and in a snuffling tone said, "Boys, yer eyes won't
have to be very big to be bigger than your bellies, if
they feed us this 'ere fashion long."

At another time some hungry customers persisted in
critically examining the bag (after Jess had got himself
into a sweat in scraping it until not a speck remained
which would have proved a temptation to a pismire),
to see that it contained no more meal. Jess threw the
bag towards them, remarking, "If yer can look any
meal inter that 'ere bag, I wish you'd give a look inter
my stomach ! "

As winter advanced, in common with other prisoners,
Jess experienced great trouble from those tormentors
of our flesh, the vermin. Almost continually during
the day he had his nether garment off, engaged in a
war of extermination, when, as he expressed it, he
raised the black flag, and gave " no quarters " to the
enemy. Drury, a quizzical fellow of our acquaintance,
came upon the busy Jess thus engaged, and remarked,

236 THE soldier's story.

"Now, old feller, you seem to be at them about all
your time." "Yes," said Jess, suspending operations
for a while, to scratch his back, "it's a pooty even
thing; me and these fellers take turns." "How so?"
inquired D. "Why," quietly remarked Jess, with a
droll snuffle, "I torment them all day, and they torment
me all night!" "In that remark, O Jess, was con-
densed more vigorous truth than poetical licence,^' re-
marked D., as he walked away, leaving the undaunted
Jess still "at um."

Damon, another comrade of mine, shared, in common
with the rest of us, a very spare diet. One day, after
being diligently engaged in compressing his pantaloons
around him, in order to keep them on, for the want of
suspenders for that essential purpose, with a long-drawn
sigh, shook his head, and remarked, "There's one con-
solation : if I keep on growing slim in this way, there'll
be cloth enough in this pair of breeches to make two
pairs, which wUl give me a chance for winter." The
idea was so amusing that laughter was irrepressible.

On another occasion I noticed my hungry comrade
Beckwith eating a suspicious-looking substance, which
bore a close resemblance to raw dough, rather than
bread. "What, Beck., eating your flour raw?" I iu-
quu'ed, just to see what he would say. "Kaw? Yes ! "
exclaimed he, with mingled tones of indignation and
humor ; " I shouldn't wonder if 'twas just the thing to
stick to my ribs and make me fat." Thus it was that
starving, suffering men, while battling for life, Liughed

HBMOE AMID WEETCHEDNESS. 237

At fate, and threw their jokes in the face of i'amhie and
wretchedness.

On first entering the Florence prison I saw Beckwith
ahnost daily. He always met me with the same brave
smile, and with a quick, merry sparkle of his fine blue
eye. I remember his jocular expression used to be,
when we met, "Hey, old boy ! what der you think of
this — don't you? Tall living, perhaps you believe."
But there came a change : his steps grew more and
more feeble ; his blue eyes looked their merry smile no
more. He lived to reach Annapolis, and died without
the longed-for sight of loved friends and home, where
and among whom he had hoped to lie down and be at
rest. Brave comrade ! poor fellow ! farewell ! No
more shall loved ones gaze upon thy merry, soul-lit
face ; no more will ring thy light, full-hearted laugh.

How many faces, like his, pale with dreadful suffer-
ing, come up like ghosts in households throughout the
land, bringing to anguished hearts wails of bitterness
and sorrow, which nothing can heal in this life ! How
hard the task, among our northern homes, to forget or
forgive those who committed the crimes which merci-
lessly starved and tortured helpless men and youth,
sent from every village of the land ! At Anderson ville,
Florence, Charleston, and Belle Isle, their bones ara
an attestation of a stain which no future can ever wash
from the garments of the Soutli.

I one day found Jack E. intently engaged in stretch-
ing the remnants of an old shirt across two mud walls,

238 THE soldier's story.

built up like a dog kennel, leaving a space between
almost large enough to admit t\A'o persons when lying
down. Jack was whistling away, as though Avell satis-
fied with the manner in which things were progressing,
when I remarked that I couldn't see the use of the ohl
shirt, as it would neither keep out cold, wind, or rain.
"AVell," said Jack, stopping suddenly in his whistling,
with a puzzled gaze fixed on his " shebang," then look-
ing up, with a triumphant grin, " I don't suppose it
will ; but won't it strain some of the coarsest of it ? "

During a rainy spell at Florence, at one time it
became almost impossible to start a fire, and wood
produced, at best, little besides smoke. The persistent
Jess, under these circumstances, was indefatigable in
his efforts to choke down the smoke and blow up the
fire. Being defeated time after time, at last persever-
ance was rewarded. The little fire blazed, and Jess's
face glowed with eager satisfaction as he held extended
over the coals a split canteen, containing a concoction
of flour and water, which the poor fellow's stomach was
sorely in need of. He was at the height of satisfael ion ,
when some clmnsy fellow, in passing, stumbled and
fell, putting out the fire, and sitting in the identical
canteen, and on the contents of which poor Jess had
centred his ambition and appetite. AVith one blow the
prospects of Jess for a supper and a fire had disaj)-
peared. The strain on his nerves was toe much ; he
burst into tears, and from tears to a discordant wail of
chagrin, disappointment, and hunger. But, seeing iho

EXTRE3IE WRETCHEDNESS. 239

destroyer of his hopes, Venus-like, rising from a small
8ea of paste, his sense of the ludicrous was awakened,
and Jess, bursting from a howl of sorrow and dismay
to laughter, exclaimed, " Old fellow, if you'll set over
that fire till it bakes, I'll go halves with you."

It was often piteous to see men struggling with de-
spondency, hunger, and cold, in an attempt to preserve
life. ^len whose half-clad bodies were chilled through
were to be seen moving feebly around during the night,
uttering agonizing wails and moans, in an attempt to
keep up circulation, and retain life in their wasted
bodies. I recollect some half a dozen naked forms,
out of which the likeness of human beings had been
starved, with chattering teeth, groping around in
prison, without a shirt to their backs, their gaze idiotic,
and their speech confused and incoherent. Staggering
feebly, they fell and died by the brook-side and in the
sloughs of the quagmire, or by the dead-line. All hu-
man language fails to depict these scenes, and their
very remembrance chills my blood with horror.

No imagination can picture the wretchedness of the
hospital at the camp. Not one half of its inmates had
their senses ; their bodies begrimed with dirt, their limbs
swelled and discolored with scurvy, or covered with the
filth of diarrhoea, they lay often on the bare ground, in
the rain, without shelter or blanket to cover their naked-
ness. Could the scenes occurring in prison be de-
picted and understood by the North in all their horror,
the spirit of revenge would, I fear, have been aroused,

240 THE soldier's story.

and have gone forth in a war of retaliation and exter
mination against the South. How hard, alas ! it is to
comprehend scenes of wretchedness which elsewhere
have no known parallel in the history of suffering men.

1 have never seen a description given of the effects
upon the human system of a meagre diet of entirely
one kind of food. At Florence no vegetable food was
ever issued, or meat, with three exceptional cases, to
any but the hospital inmates. Our rations had more
variety than we obtained at Andersonville, usuidly con-
sisting of wheat flour, hominy, rice, or Indian meal.
Dr. Hamlin, in his learned dissertation on Anderson-
ville, assumes that to the scarcity of food were entirely
owing those aggravated forms of scui'vy- ^\'ith which the
prison was reeking. This, no doubt, contributed in
producing them, by weakening the system and giving
less power to the body to throw off the influence of dis-
ease ; but, in my opinion, it was the entire absence
of vegetable food, together with want of variety, which
caused such unusually dreadful cases of scurvy.

The tendency of scurvy to bring out old diseases,
and to reproduce and render chronic any weakness to
which the system had a previous tendency, is also, I
think, but little understood, as one of its effects. I be-
lieve the diarrhoea in camp, which, in a majority of
cases, produced death, was only one of the aggravations
of this disease, seizing upon that portion of the phys-
ical system which was weakest. Scurvy in the mouth
produced scurvy in the bowels, which was followed by

COMBINATIONS OF DISEASE. 241

a general disorder of those functions. Old diseases,
which were supposed to be eradicated, were revived by
its influences, such was its tendency to seize upon the
weaknesses of the system. I have of these matters, it is
irue, no scientific knowledge ; but, having been witness
to its workings in thousands of cases, I merely make
the statement as a result of my observations on the
isubject.

It was true that starvation and mental despondency
blended with so many forms of physical horror as to
make it difficult to trace the distinct action of any par-
ticular disease. At Florence, as at Andersonville, the
combination of them all produced feeble-mindedness
and often insanity, which never partook in their char-
acter of fierceness, but were rather characterized by
timidity of demeanor and incoherence of speech, in
which often were mingled piteous tones of entreaty,
low and tremulous with weakness ; sometimes gleams
of intelligence lighting the stony eye, or thrilling the
voice with a wail of hopeless despair. No pen can
picture or language express it ; only those who are fa-
miliar, to their sorrow, with these scenes, will recognize
the full import of my meaning. I seldom recall, will-
ingly, these pictures of wretchedness ; but they are too
indelibly impressed upon memory, by the fierce brand
of suffering, to be forgotten. Those sad, wailing
voices, those clutching, restless hands, those pinched,
despairing or meaningless faces, — all unbidden come
back to me, with the horror of reality. Perhaps it
16

242 THE soldier's stoey.

mifflit be better to let such memories slumber in tlieii
prison homes ; but they seem to rise reproachfully, and
bid me speak. I am almost glad that language fails to
convey half my meaning, for the hearts of parents and
kindred would freeze with terror could they but see
those loved ones in all their hopeless wretchedness.

Revenge is not tolerated in the light of our high, en-
nobling civilization; but when I behold the South,
stricken and suffering from fire, famine, and the sword,
as one of the results of the awful civil contest just
closed, I seem to see the hand of God's retribution
seekino; out and visitino; her crimes with chastisement.
If in coming times, as in the past, she shall sin against
the moral ideas of the age, or if we, as then, become
participants in her crime, so shall we reap, with her,
the punishment of those crimes.

There was a phase of character developed by prison
life which was neither joyous nor sad in its outward
expression, seemingly a quiet bracing of every nerve,
and the concentration of all the powers of mind and
body against disease and death, in which men neither
laughed, nor smiled, nor cried, nor could anything move
them from their impervious calmness of demeanor. Not
even an exciting rumor of exchange, or prospect of
speedy deliverance, seemed to start them from theii
impenetrable placidity. Imbued with a quiet inflex-
ibleness of purpose, — and that to live, — they calcu-
lated every chance of life in each moment of time, yet
never seemed to feel disappointment or passion. Like

DETERMINATION TO LIVE. 243

a rack in mid-ocean, lashed by the storm, they stood
unmoved by the passions and longings that swayed and
actuated the great mass of tortured mortality. I recall
to mind one of this mould of character.

A comrade informed me one morning that S. was
dying. I visited him, and found him suffering great
bodily pain ; but not an expression of it disturbed the
calmness of his face. It was simply in the vice-like
compression of his lips, and the convulsion of his limbs,
that could be detected his great suffering. His hands
were poor and wasted, seeming to be, simply, a parched
skin drawn over angular bones. "Do you think you
will live through it?" I asked of him. "Yes, I know
I shall live as long as any one who does not get more
rations than I do."

I did not believe him at the time ; but, in spite of
my unbelief, he lived, and is living still. He had a
philosophy of his own in economizing life. He did not
allow any passion or excitement to use up his vitality.
He had a system of exercise, and, seemingly, was
engrossed with profound reflections on his condition,
studying himself and his circumstances to solve the
problem of how he could best prolong life. I once
asked him if he got down-hearted at the jDrospects. His
reply was an index to his character : " No — there 'd be
]io use in that ; " as if his inflexible will controlled even
Ihe action of his mind, in that one purpose of living.
Men of this iron mould were rare. It is uncommon,
indeed, as a phenomenon, to see one possessing such

244 THE soldier's story.

stoical determination, such steady, unfaltering nerves,
while battling for a foothold on life.

Sergeant Arthur H . Smith was a man who had some-
thing of this composition. Always quiet, determined,
and undemonstrative, he took the hardships of prison
life with dogged grimness of purpose, — as if to extract
all the life there was from the food to be had, and
infuse it into bone and muscle, for purposes of endur-
ance. It was this calm, ceaseless persistence and inflex-
ible purpose which were requisite qualities for carrying
men tlu'ough the quicksands of death which surrounded
us. When Smith first came to Florence, he was sent
out to gather wood for the prison. The guards did not
have their muskets loaded that day, and, had they been,
they were nearly as liable to go oft' the wrong end as
the right one. Noticing all these facts. Smith com-
menced to organize "for a break." Suddenly, to the
surprise of the Johnnies, about half of their prisoners
filed quietly in another direction, as if acting under
orders ; and so I suppose they were — from Smith. By
the time the grayback sentinels began to understand
the Yankee trick, the prisoners mentioned had scattered
in all directions through the woods, and were not atten-
tive to the repeated invitation of then- guardian gTay-
backs to " halt, thar ! " It must have shocked the
Johnnies' ideas of propriety to see the Yanks scamper-
ing off with so little notice. Smith was out on the
"rampage" two or three weeks, but was finally cap-
tured in the vicinity of Wilmington. He had found

EFFECTS OF DESPAIE. 245

friends among the black men, evidence of which he
carried on his person, in the shape of some increase of
flesh, and in a full suit of coarse gray clothes, and a
shirt, made, I should think, from an old carpet. He
came into prison with the same stoical demeanor and
persistence of purpose standing out in his face — that
of living and enduring to get home ; which, it is need-
less to say, he achieved. He was my companion from
Annapolis to Massachusetts, and lives to-day, shattered
in health; but not shaken in the resolution to live as long
as possible.

Sergeant Attwood, another comrade, was a man of
opposite tendencies, with something of changefulness in
his moods and disposition. He was, perhaps, as noble-
hearted and brave a fellow as ever stood at a gun.
Elated or depressed easily by good news or the reverse,
his was not the temperament to endure the horrors of
prison life. He sank under it, and, I believe, died at
last amid the despondency and gloom of the prison.

Baxter, of Company G, went the same way, though
he got his parole, and was on his way North. Shat-
tered in mind and body, he roused himself at the pros-
pect of going home, made the effort, and died. I
recollect asking him, at one time, what he thought of
the southern chivalry. His answer had in it food for
thought, which, though it may be indigestible in these
lenient times, was the spirit evoked by the barbarous
usage of prisoners. "I have made up my mind," said
ho, "to one creed, political and religious, to govern my

246 THE soldier's story.

conduct when I get out of prison." " What creed in
that?" I inquired. "To hate what they love, and love
what they hate. I shall be sure, then, to be on the
right side." If the future is to be a repetition of the
past, I think his creed a safe one for the guidance of
the North. But let us charitably hope that, now the
great moral cause of southern inhumanity is removed,
wrong ideas may also be revolutionized and supplanted
by new ones.

At Florence the difficulty of escaping was increased
by a deep ditch, already described, encircling the entu-e
prison. This made tunnelling difficult and unprofita-
ble, as it carried the tunneller, at best, but just beyond
the stockade, where getting from the ditch would,
under ordinary circumstances, attract or draw the fire
of the guard. Yet men got out, by bribing the senti-
nels, and making their escape, with assistance, over the
stockade.

One lucky fellow, who was the possessor of a watch,
with several others, made his escape in this manner,
and succeeded in getting into the Federal lines. I af-
terwards met him at the North, accidentally, on the
train from New York to Boston, and had from him the
particulars of his adventures. He and his comrades
fell in with others who were escaping, formed a party
estabhshing him as a leader, travelled nights, and slept
in the woods daytimes. When set upon by dogs, tliey
killed an entire pack of them, resumed their journey,
reached the chain of mountains in North Carolina, and

COINCIDENCES. 247

travelled on the table-lands of these elevations. At
two or three diflPerent times they met white men, and,
knowing it impossible to trust them, — although they,
in each case, protested that they were Union men, —
the alternative lay before them of killing them, or
disposing of them in some manner so as not to endan-
ger their own safety. Therefore they bucked and
gagged them securely, and left them in the woods to
their fate. It was hard that no other course was left
to them, but desperate men, who had endured prison
suffering, were in no mood to temporize under such cii -
cumstances. I wish I remembered and could give this
man's name, and the full details of his escape, as narrated
to me. It deserves to be put on record. My meeting
him, in the manner described, was one of those singular
coincidences which are stranger than the inventions of
fiction. Many such coincidences and meetings occurred
in my prison life. I will instance a few.

Jesse L., whom I have mentioned in these pages,
was an old comrade in the engineer corps, in which I
first enlisted. From the time of my first capture I
had not seen him until I met him at Andersonville.
Two men whom I had known at Belle Island very
intimately, I met again during my second imprison-
ment. One of them I saw for the first time when we
embarked on the flag-of-truce boat at Charleston. I
sat down in the only place I could find, looked around
at the man next to me, and thought I detected some-
thing familiar in his face : thinking him one of my

248 THE soldier's stort.

casual acquaintances at Florence, I accosted him, when,
to my surprise, he claimed to be one of my old Belle
Island associates. At one time, in Florence, a German
met his brother, whom he had not seen since he left
home in the old country, some five years before.

The month of December was cold and gloomy, its
(ihilly winds wailing through those long, bitter nights,
like a requiem for the dead. The frost-whitened ground,
which lay like a shroud over the prison ; the various
dreadful forms of despair, insanity, disease, and death;
the shivering, half-clad beings, wandering with plaintive
moans and chattering teeth up and down the prison,
impress me now with terror, as one of the darkest
times of my prison life. I can never think of that time
without thanking God, with a full heart, for deliver-
ance. As it is darkest just before dawn of day, so
there is a gloom of circumstances sometimes preceding
the light of happier days.

The rebel adjutant came into camp one day, looking
up clerks to work upon a register of the prisoners, a
copy of which was to be sent to our government in
return for a like compliment conferred by them. I
wrote my name and detachment, and handed it to the
officer of the guard. In the afternoon, an ordei'ly came
into prison, and inquired for me. I accompanied him
to the colonel's quarters, which was a log house, in
which were a fire-place and two or three pine tables.
At one of these sat a youngish, rather under middle
sized man, dressed in gray. He looked at me with

RESPECT FOR YANKEEISMS. 249

surprise, and said, with something of pity in his voice,
"My poor fellow, can you write?" I took up a pen,
which lay upon the table, and wrote upon a slip of
paper a simple sentence, signing my name, rank, &c.
The colonel drew it towards him, looked it over a
moment, and said pleasantly, " Very good ; that will
do. Go into the prison and get your traps, and I will
set you at work." "I have no traps," said I. "No
cooking dishes ? " " No ! " It appeared to strike him
as very strange. "Well," said he, "I'll feed you well
out here." "I cannot agree to do writing," said I,
"except for the prison." He looked up as if angry,
and said, abruptly, "What difference does it make to
you ? " I said nothing. " Well, well, your Yankeeisms
shall be respected," said he.

250 THE soldiee's story.

CHAPTER XIV.

A New Life. — Plenty of Food. — Better Clothes and Treatment aa
a Clerk. — Register of Dead made up for our Government. —
Large Mortality for the Number of Prisoners. — Many recorded
" Unknown." — New Supplies of Clotliing. — Colonel Iverson af-
fected. — Fears from Better Diet. — Symptoms of Paralysis. — A
large Arrival of Letters. — Longings for Home revived. — Rebel
Adjutant Cheatham. — Georgia Troops. — Yankees employed- on
the Register, for Want of Competent Rebels. — General Winder.

— His Dislike of Favors to Prisoners. — Unfeeling Remarks by
him. — All sent back to Prison but the Clerks. — Inhumanity to
Prisoners under him attributed to the Rebel Government. — An
attempted Palliation by Iverson that Rebel Prisoners were ill
treated. — Low Estimate of Yankees by Iverson. — Humor of
Adjutant Cheatham. — His Description of a South Carolina Drill.

— New Prisoners. — Orders to prepare for Exchange. — A Joyful
Day. — A Poor Comrade. — Sad Sights. — A little Strategy to get
off. — A Surprise, and Imprisonment ended. — Left Florence for
Charleston. — Awaiting the Subsiding of a Storm. — A Massachu-
setts Rebel. — Compassionate Woman. — Under the "Old Flag"
again. — Arrival at Annapolis. — Once more at Home.

SIGNED a parole of honor, agreeing not to go
beyond prescribed limits without a pass. That
night I got a glorious supper of fresli beef and white
bread, of which, however, I did not dare to eat as
nmch as 1 wished for fear of the consequences. I slept
in the Adjutant's cabin before a fire, and certainly
thought myself altogether a lucky fellow. The next

UNKNOWN DEAD. 251

morning Adjutant Cheatham, of the fifth Georgia, gave
me from his wardrobe a shirt and pair of drawers, which
I considered very clever in one who had so poor a
supply himself. Said he, apologetically, " I did have
quite a lot of clothes when I came here, but I gave
them all away to the bloody Yanks who were running
around in thar " (pointing to the prison) " like yom*-
self." I sent my former wardrobe into the prison to
one of my comrades, and thus disposed of my vennin,
or most of them. Still I had no shoes, or any other
articles of clothing, except the said drawers and shirt ;
but they were woollen and warm, and I tingled all
over with pleasant sensations from having again a full
stomach and warm clothes. I went at once to work
making up a dead register. This register showed,
when completed, that over seventeen hundred Federal
soldiers, prisoners of war, had died in tins prison since
its establishment, the last of September, 1864. The
prison had never numbered over fifteen thousand men,
and a good portion of the time five thousand would
have covered the nmnber contained therein. Many of
the dead were marked "Unknown." A'NHiat a burden
of sorrows, disappointed hopes, and miseries were em-
bodied in that word ! Then- names, their history all
unknown, uncared-for, they died. Some mother, wife,
father, or sister mourns them, or vainly waits for theii
coming. Each sound of footsteps at the door may
cause their hearts to throb with expectancy ; but no
more in life shall they behold those faces which once

252 THE soldier's story.

gladdened the household. " Sick and in prison," they
lingered and died, unknown.

Another lot of goods came from the Sanitary Com-
mission, via Charleston, for distribution among pris-
oners during the middle of October. A guard was
placed over them, and a Federal officer, who by mis-
take had got into the prison, was taken out and paroled
for the pui'pose of taking charge of and distributing the
goods among prisoners. Boxes also came through for
several prisoners. The instructions were, that all boxes
were to be examined, to see that they contained nothing
contraband. The Colonel commanding undertook the
task. The first box opened had a little pocket Bible,
and on the fly leaf was -written the name of the pris-
oner, with the words, "From your mother." As if
this incident had roused some tender recollections of
liis own home, the Colonel turned quickly away, saying,
"Put on the cover again, and let the poor boy have his
box just as his mother packed it." Of the Sanitary
goods I got a good suit myself, and had a chance to
send my drawers and shirt into the prison for friends.
The Colonel and Adjutant were very jealous of any of
the paroled men having communication with the other
prisoners. I had now been out at work on the register
over a week, getting enough to eat, if I had dared to
eat it. I had to exercise continual vigilance in regar<3
to eating, and nothing but the most absolute self-control
enabled me to keep fi*om eating too much. I had had
experience of this kind before, when released from Belle

LETIEES FROM HOME. 253

Island, which was of great value to me. As it was, I
scarcely passed a day -without intensely gnping pains
and vomiting. At this time, too, I began to have my
first symptoms of paralysis, and often collapsed in a
heap while walking along, by my legs giving way from
imder me.

During my second week on parole, two rebel mail
agents came to Florence, with about thirty thousand
letters for the different prisons of the Confederacy.
As the prisoners had been shifted around so much since
imprisonment, it was impossible to tell exactly where
they were. I was set to work to help distribute these
letters, and look up the names on the register. Often
the persons would be found to be dead ; whereupon
Colonel Iverson instructed me to write to their friends,
informing them of the fact. While thus at work, it
had never occurred to me that there might be letters
for myself, until I came upon two. These letters
informed me that all my friends were well, and though
they were rather old, they encouraged me, and relieved
many anxieties. Certainly, thought I, if fortune favors
in this manner, I shall get out of prison before the war
is over. Receiving these letters revived passionate
lonsino's for home and friends, which had been crushed
for months under the accumulating miseries and mere
struggle for foothold upon life.

The office where I wrote and lodged was the quar-
ters of Lieutenant-Colonel Iverson, which I have once
described. Paper was a scarce commodity, and we

254 THE soldier's story.

were not expected to make a very generous use of it.
Cheatham, the rebel Adjutant, had before the war been
a cashier in a bank. He was very kind to liis Yankee
boys, as he termed us, and was quite an able business
man. The Adjutant had taken most of. the young boys
from the prison, and put them in a camp by themselves,
providing them with much better rations than the stock-
ade got. In this maimer, about one hundred boys,
from twelve to fifteen years of age, ^vel•e cared for.
He had one or two fine-looking little feUows around
the office, whom he made great pets of. The Adjutant
was very droll and humorous sometimes, and Avas never
so happy as when he could get Eddy Kuapp and another
Yankee boy at dancing, or singing negro and comic
songs. He used gravely to tell the women down in
the village that these boys were Yankee girls, and at
one time so completely humbugged them into the belief,
that, prompted by curiosity, these Secesh dames one
day made a visit to the prison headquarters, and com-
menced quizzing the Adjutant about his supposed girls,
when the Adjutant, who had instructed the boys Avhat to
say, had their hair parted in the middle, and introduced
them at the headquarters. The women asked them,
"Be you Yankee gu-ls?" "Yes, ma'am," was the
answer. "Where do you stop o' nights?" " O, right
in here with the Adjutant." Whereupon each Secesh
dame took her snuff stick, which she had sat chewing,
from her mouth, and sat in blank amazement, and
when the Adjutant was out, said among themselves,

" EEBEL INCOMPETENCY. 255

' This Cheatum is a drefful man." These women after-
wards wished to look over the stockade at the prisoners,
and were so lost to all Christian feeling and decency as to
say, as they saw the emaciated creatures of the prison,
" Goo^ enough for them Yanks ; they needn't have cum'd
down to fight we'uns." Cheatham was a humane fellow,
generous in his impulses, yet a rebel of tlie darkest dye,
for all tliat. " Gol ding it," he used to say, " the Yanks
have got a powerful spite 'gainst us, and we have got
everything 'gainst them, and the best way is to fight
until it's knocked out of each other."

I often had a chance of seeLng: the "five Greorgia"
and other rebel regiments in line. Their dress was a
medley of all the dry goods of the Confederacy, and
their drill in the manual of arms embraced every de-
scription of infantry tactics, from Scott to Hardee.
Some of the rebel privates one day passed headquarters,
and said one to the other, "Good quarters, arn't they, i
Jim?" "Yes," responded Jim, "and full of them
devilish Yanks." The Adjutant heard the remark, and
turned to me, and said, "You see how jealous our folks
are when we do any kindness for you Yankees." I
have no doubt that the Colonel and Adjutant had to put
up with many caustic remarks from rebel soldiers and
citizens, whenever it was known they showed mercy
or favor to the starving, dying thousands under their
charge. " To tell the truth," said Cheatham, " I wouldn't
have one of you Yanks to work on that register, but
my rebs have no tact for business. They can fight like

256 THE soldier's story.

the devil, but don't take to reading or writing, or such
things." This was a tacit acknowledgment of the
superiority of the Yankees in point of intelligence. It
was full as rare to see a Yankee private who could not
write, as it was to see a rebel who could.

l\niile distributing the mail, of which I have spoken,
the rebel general, Winder, made his appearance at the
prison. He was a man apparently about sixty years
of age, dressed in homespun Secesh citizen clothes,
butternut-coat and gray pants, tall, spare, and straight
in figure, with an austere expression of face, a firm,
set mouth, a large Roman nose, like a pan'ot's beak, and
a cold, stony, stern eye. I overheard a conversation,
which took place on the morning of his arrival, between
him and Colonel Iverson, who stood just under the
cabin window, near where I was writing. Said Win-
der, in sharp, abrupt tones, "Colonel Iverson, I can't
have all these Yankees running around outside the
prison. What are they doing ? " The Colonel explained
that it was necessary, in order to provide tlie prison
with wood, and to erect shelter for the sick. "No
necessity," said Winder, abruptly ; to which Ivei-son
responded in a tone of remonstrance and entreaty,
"General, the prisoners, in spite of all I have done, or
can do, are starving." " Let them stai*ve then ! " said
Winder, in sharp, angry tones, putting a stop to further
conversation. In about an hour afterwards, Iverson
came in with a pale, anxious, troubled look upon his
handsome features-, and walking nervously back and

INHUMANITY OF GENERAI. WESTDER. 257

forth m the office, gave the Adjutant instructions to
write the order sending back all paroled men except
those at work in the office, and a few others, to the
prison.

I mention this incident, as I think it furnishes the key-
to the general inhumanity with which prisoners were
uniformly treated in all the rebel prisons. First,
public sentiment South forbade to prisoners civilized
usage ; second, the inflexible Winder was in general
command of all the Confederate prisons, and received
orders direct from the chief actors in the rebellion.
Winder afterwards died of disease contracted at Flor-
ence military prison, and thus poetical justice was
dealt out. Mr. Christian, the rebel mail agent, related
to me an instance of General Winder's severity and
moroseness of temper. " In some battle around Rich-
mond, a Brigadier-General was captured with other
prisoners. Winder stood giving orders for the disposal
of the prisoners. The Brigadier-General, in fawning
tones, said, " Ah, General, what are you going to do with
me?" Winder turned abruptly on his heels, replying in
his sharpest tones, "Hang you, sir."

Several times I had conversations with Iverson and the
Adjutant in relation to the treatment of prisoners, and
in regard to slavery, in which my natural hastiness often
got the better of my caution, and I expressed myself
pretty freely. The Colonel defended the use of a dead-
line, saying it was copied from our prison regulations,
and very gravely stated that the Federal treatment of
17

258 THE soldier's story.

rebel prisoners was as bad as theirs. " The treatment,'
said he, "on both sides is cruel." He instanced tht
treatment of prisoners at Fort Delaware, and said some
of the boys of his regiment had been there, and that
they did not get enough to eat, though he admitted it
was through the rascality of the officers in charge of
the distribution of rations. "They had tents," said 1.
" Yes," said he, angrily, " but we don't have any for our
own men," and closed the conversation by going out.
Some of my comrades, engaged in writing on the
register with me, said, " Sarge, the Colonel has got his
mad up, and you'll be sent into the stockade." Iverson
stood only just outside, overheard the remark, and
coming in at the door, indirectly reproved the speaker,
by coldly saying, " I never think less of a man who has
convictions which are not changed by his circumstances.
I can trust such men." There were no men among the
prisoners whom the Colonel had such contempt for as
the " Galvanized Yanks." He treated men with severity
when they intimated that they w ished to . " take the
oath." He would say roughly to them, " You are
traitors on one side — you will turn traitors to us the
first chance you get ; I can't endure a man who does not
fight from principle." To Union men, who belonged
to southern states, he was very vindictive and harsh,
often calling them d — d traitors, asking them some-
times what they were fighting against their country
for?

The Colonel's estimate of Yankee integrity and

Cheatham's esteviate of y^lnkees. 259

intellect was a very low one. He was very much
prejudiced against them, and refused to see that the
general physical and mental condition of the prisoners
was owing to long suffering. He would sometimes
say in my hearing, of some poor creature who had
had all his humanity starved out of him, "Now, look
at him ; he don't know so much as one of our niggers."
I once overheard a conversation between him and a
citizen. "These Yanks," said he, pointing to a squad
of prisoners, "are just like our niggers ; you can't trust
most of them out of sight." Noticing that I heard
him, with true gentlemanly instinct, he stopped in his
remarks. When I got a little ahead of him in any
remark, he would say, " Sergeant, you are the dog-
gondest stubborn Yank I have got," or, "You are a
heavy dog," and then closed the conversation by walk-
ing off.

Adjutant Cheatham used to delight in telling humor-
ous incidents, and would even mimic his favorite rebels
in all their grotesqueness. Unlike most rebels, he was
free from the negro accent or patois, but would assume
it with great drollery when he was mimicking the
" South Caroleneans." I will not vouch for the truth
of the following incident, which he used to relate in a
manner which would have made a mule laugh. "I
was out the other morning," said he, "and saw a guard
drill that knocked all my ideas of that performance.
Groups of men were standing around their huge fires —
the mornings were quite cold — when one of the

260 THE soldier's story.

South Carolinian officers came up, and pushing away a
big fat fellow who had tied a tarred rope into his belt to
make it reach round him, said, ' Eph, git from afore
me, for I'm a-cold,' and proceeded to warm his rear by
elevating his coat tail on his hands. Then looking
around upon the group, he said, ' Now, boys, git into
two ranks like tater ridges, for I'se a goin tu fling yer
into fours.' After getting them into two ranks, he
gave the order to ' right dress ; ' but the line didn't suit
him. Eph, especially, gave him trouble. ' Eph, Eph,
stick yer stomach in thar.' This Eph endeavored to
do ; but when his feet were in line his stomach pro-
truded way beyond, and when his stomach was in line
his feet were in the rear rank. Getting vexed at this,
he pulled out his sword, and drew a crooked mark
in front of the company, saying, ' Gol ding it, if yer
can't right dress, come up ter that scratch.' They did
this very satisfactorily, when he commenced to drill
them. The first order was, 'Two ranks inter four
ranks, double smart, right quick, git ! ' But in this
manoeuvre they got mixed up so bad that it wasn't
tried again. He then commenced to drill them in the
manual of arms. The person addressed as Eph
seemed to take unkindly to this military drill, and his
Captain addressed him in pathetic tones of remon-
strance : ' Eph ! Eph ! I've told yer four times to bring
that gun ter a tote, and yer hain't done it. Eph, yer
have acted the plum fool ! ' Addressing the Sergeant
of the relief, he said, ' Put this 'er Eph on guard near

PREPARATIONS FOR PAROLE. 261

the swamp, where Cheatum won't see him.' And,"
said Cheatham, " without seeing me, away went the
relief at route step, with arms in all positions but the
right ones."

, During the second week out on parole, about thirty
men belonging to one of our merchantmen, captured
just off New York harbor by a rebel cruiser, were
brought into the prison. Iverson paroled the officers,
but turned the common sailors into the prison to take
their luck with the prisoners. The officers, who had
enough to eat and good clothes, thought outside life
about the hardest of anything they ever heard of, and
were much surprised when I told them I thought they
ought not to grumble, when men inside the stockade
were starving. Two officers. Lieutenant Luke and
Lieutenant J. Laughlin, were captured while trying to
escape from Columbia, and brought into Florence
prison about this time. Lieutenant Laughlin was
captured in the same battle with myself, and as I was
personally acquainted with him, I slyly gave him
clothes, and went to the Colonel, at risk of being sent
into the stockade again, and interceded for good
quarters and food for them, which were given.

The last of November, orders came from General
Hardee to commence making out parole rolls for the
sick and wounded prisoners at Florence, who were to
be sent to Charleston, at the rate of two thousand
every other day. I, with others, went to work upon
these paroles. What a joyful day it was to those men

262 THE soldier's story.

as at last they realized that they were going home,
and with trembling, eager hands they signed their
parole of freedom ! I was at work making out these
parole rolls, when a poor creature came Avith tottering
steps to the table, and tried to sign his name. " You'll
haxe to write my name," said he ; "I'm not the man I
was when you and I were captured at Plymouth." I
looked up and recognized in this shattered wreck of
humanity a Sergeant who belonged to Company G,
second Massachusetts heavy artillery. I left my writ-
ing to another clerk, while I helped the poor fellow to
my log hut, and gave him warm drink and food, and
my blanket to lie on. The poor fellow tried to thank
me, but broke down, crying like a child. He was not
very coherent in his speech. He could only say
repeatedly, " Do you think we're going home ? " I as-
sured him of the fact, and left him to resume my
duties. Afterwards, when I returned, he was gone.
He must have died on the way to Charleston, as I
could never ascertain that he reached his home.

Day after day I wrote on the parole rolls, trying
to see my way clear to get away with the sick and
wounded. Men were hourly dying before headquarters.
Mr. Christian, the rebel mail agent, repeatedly said, as
he saw the poor fellows come out, feebly trying to
cheer, that it was the saddest sight he ever beheld. I
was instrumental in getting several of my comrades out
of prison on the parole list, and finally summoned
courage to make application in my own behalf,

STRATEGY TO LEAVE THE PEISON. 263

when I was told to be contented or go back to the
stockade.

After quite a delay in transportation, an order came
from General Hardee, to have fifteen hundred prisoners
ready for transportation on the afternoon of the next
day. The names were placed on rolls, giving rank,
regiment, and company, after which the prisoners
signed their names, or made their marks. These rolls
were in triplicate, and each roll contained, I believe,
about three hundred names. Like our army rolls, no
erasures were allowed. When the order came I asked
the Adjutant if I could put my name down on the rolls.
He turned away, muttering something, and I pro-
ceeded to put my name down among the paroled. I
then made out triplicates for the rolls, containing about
three hundred names each, and anxiously awaited re-
sults. An officer commenced calling the rolls, each
man stepping out into line as the names were called.
The decisive moment at length arrived. My name was
called. I laid down my pen, took my hat and stood in
line. " Here ! here ! " exclaimed both the Adjutant and
Colonel, in chorus, " what does this mean ? " "I thought
you told me," said I, with feigned surprise, " that I
could go home with this squad. Adjutant." The Adju-
tant laughed, the Colonel looked pleasant, and I took
courage. "Well," said Colonel Iverson, after a pause,
" you can go ; but you must confess that it is a d — ^d
Yankee trick." When at last I left, on my way to the
cars, the Adjutant said, "I'm glad for you; I intended

264 THE soldier's story.

you to go soon. I expect next you will be telling the
Yankees what a d — d rascal Adjutant Cheatham was."
And here I am telling all about him.

I left Florence that night. We were stowed on top
and inside box cars. We travelled all next day, and
arrived in Charleston about twelve o'clock next night.
It blew hard, and was bitterly cold, when we were
ordered off the cars, and had rations of hard-tack
given out to us. Prisoners here and there lay
dead and dying. It seemed too sad, when so near the
promised lar 1, that they should die. It was very cold
the next morning, when we were on our march to the
flag-of-truce boat ; but what did we care for that ?
Were we not going home once more to see friends, and
the dear old flag we had so often fought under, and
which, God willing, we would fight under again?
The wind was too heavy for the flag-of-truce boat
to go, and reluctantly we were obliged to leave her ;
and from thence we were marched to Roper Hospital.
From here, however, we were sent to the workhouse
yard, which I have described in preceding pages. For
two days we waited here, losing courage. Many lost
hope, and many lay dead and dying around us.

The rebel commissary came in the evening to the
workhouse yard. I inquired of him when we should
be sent to our transports. His answer was encour-
aging ; and in course of conversation he asked me
where I belonged. I answered, " Massachusetts." " So
do I," said he, extending his hand; "I belong to

AWAITING PASSAGE HOME. 265

Massachusetts." I inquired what part. "Marion,"
was the reply. I was acquainted there, and soon
found I knew several of his friends. He took me
and several friends out with him, and gave us quarters
in Roper Hospital, which were very good. While at
this hospital I came u^jon some letters. One of them
was addressed to the board of physicians in charge,
asking what disposal was to be made of the hospital
if the city fell into Federal hands. This letter was
dated just at the time of our first attack on Charleston,
and shows that the rebels were not so confident at that
time of withstanding the assault as they afterwards were.

We had been in Charleston three days, anxiously
waiting, when the fog, which had been very dense,
cleared away, and orders for our removal, together
with ambulances, came to the hospital to move the
sick to the flag-of-truce boat. Those not able to walk
were brought out and laid on the sidewalk, where some
of the poor fellows died. Peter Jones, one of my
company, died thus. "It is hard," said he, sorrowfully.
They were the last words he uttered.

While these men lay gasping on the sidewalk, a
woman came to the red-headed surgeon, who superin-
tended their removal, and asked permission to give the
poor sick fellows some soup she had for them. He
rebuked her severely, saying, "If you have any such
thing to give away, give it to our boys, down on the
Island. You show," said he, "what side you are on."
Her reply was, " Any tiling for humanity's sake, doctor;

266 THE soldier's story.

let me give these poor men something to eat." While
she was thus occupying the attention of this Con-
federate ogre, she had sent some children around on
the flank, who provided the sick with soup and gruel.
The surgeon raved when he found himself outflanked
and outwitted by a woman.

About three o'clock that afternoon, we were again on
the wharf, near the flag-of-truce boat. What a joyful
moment ! yet it seemed too good to be true. We, who
had been so used to being deceived, were incredulous
to the last moment. As we stood on the wharf, the
commissary whom I have mentioned came up to me,
and, shaking hands, said in a tremulous undertone, "I'd
give anything to be in your place, going to Massa-
chusetts." Dear, proud old Massachusetts ! thy chil-
dren can never, wherever their footsteps wander, forget
thee ! At last we sailed down the harbor — were in
sicrht of our dear old flaof — at last were lashed to our
receiving ship, were on board, and, thank God for his
mercy, were again under the old flag. How our tear-
dimmed eyes gazed at its folds, and we, with solemn,
sobbing voices, said, " Thank God ! thank God ! " The
link that bound us to the terrible past was broken ;
the gaunt forms, the famine-stricken faces of those who
survived, and the torturing memories they will ever
have of those dark days of death and despair, attest
how cruel and merciless were those who had charge of
rebel prisons.

I arrived at Annapolis on the 16th of December,

AT HOIVIE AGAIN. 267

1864, and was soon at home among friends, ^/here,
vipon my arrival, I was attacked with typhus fever,
and the only sight I could bear upon the walls of my
sick room during my delirium, was that emblem of our
country's honor and glory, the Stars and Stripe?. To-
day, though broken in health, and perhaps crippled for
life, I record these sufferings as a remembrance to
coming generations, and dedicate these pages io the
memory of the living and the dead, who in the " great
struggle" have suffered or died in prisons, and upon
well-fought battle-fields, for our country's preservation
and honor.

APPEl^DIX.

oN<c

" We, the undersigned, having been informed that Mr.
Warren Lee Goss has written a book narrating his expe-
rience and observations in rebel prisons during the late
civil war, which work may contain statements not readily
accepted by some persons as true, desire unhesitatingly
to testify that, fi'om long personal acquaintance, we know
him to be a gentleman of undoubted veracity and unques-
tionable integrity.

I. W. Richardson, 68 Cornhill, Boston, Attorney at Law.
I. N. Richardson, " " "

R. I. Attwill, Boston Daily Commercial.
C. B. Wood, Town Clerk and Treasurer of Middleboro'.
S. B. Pratt, Editor and Proprietor Middleboro' Gazette.
W. H. Wood, Judge of Probate Plymouth County.
L. A. Abbott, Pastor of Baptist Church, Middleboro'.
S. B. Phinney, Editor and Proprietc^r Barnstable Patriot
and Collector of Port of Barnstable."

(269)

270 APPENDIX.

The following is from sur\dviiig comrades : —

" We, the undersigned, prisoners at Andersonville and
other rebel prisons with Warren Lee Goss in 1864, take
pleasure in bearing testimony to his unimpeachable truth-
fulness as a man, and to his honor and bravery as a
soldier. In hours of sorest trial in those dreadful prisons
(the hori'ors of which have been but one half told), when
all finer sensibilities were pinched out of most of the men
by hunger, sickness, and dread, he was ever a kind, patient,
and faithful friend. Though suffering himself the common
lot of hunger, exposure, and torture, he ever found time
to comfort the sick and soothe the dying. When others
sank, their hearts appalled by the prospects before and
around them, his unfaltering courage upheld and cheered
them. We are sincerely gratified at this opportunity of
expressing our appreciation of his merits, and are pleased
that so worthy a comrade and so kind a friend has taken
upon himself the task of giving to the Avorld an account
of those days of suffering, despair, and death, when the
strongest hearts were appalled with terror, and found hope
and refuge only with God.

Residence.

S. J. Evans, Sergt. Co. H., 2d Mass. H. A., Providence, R. I.
G. T. Whitcomb, " " N. Bridgewater, Mass.

S. F. Sullivan, '^ " Lynn, "

S. T. Meara, "> " Salem, «

J. W. Damon, '^ " Boston, "

W. S. Oakman, " " Charlestown,"

J. T. McGinnis, 1st Sergt. Co. C, 5th U.S.Vols., Boston."

APPENDIX. 27 i

" The following is from the descriptive rolls of "Warren
Lee Goss, Acting Sergeant-Major Battalion, Second Massa-
chusetts Heavy Artillery, on file at Washington : —

"'Warren Lee Goss was a prisoner at Andersonville,
Georgia, Charleston and Florence, South Carolina, and
other rebel prisons. During the action at Plymouth (where
captured) he behaved with great bravery.'

(Signed) " O M. Fish, 1st Lieut. Co. H.,

2d Mass. H. A., Commanding Company."

In the city of Washington at the time of the Wirz
trial, there being survivors of Andersonville Prison
present from all parts of the country, an organization
was formed called the " Andersonville Survivors' Asso-
ciation." The following letter is from the President of
that body : —

" I am glad some one has at last undertaken the task
of writing an account of life in rebel prisons. I am sure
you are acquainted (to your sorrow) with all the minutias
of the subject. I am especially gratified that an old com-
rade, whom I have always found of unflinching integrity
in all the trials of a soldier's life, — one who enjoyed the
confidence of his officers, and esteem and love of comrades,
— should assume a task like this. All returned soldiers who
were acquainted with you testify to your kindness, bravery,
and faithful friendship in those scenes of horror which were
the accompaniments of prison life.

" Patrick Bradly,
" President Andersonville Survivors' Association.

"MiLFORD, December 17, 1866.'

272 APPENDIX.

The physician who attended the author after his
arrival from prison, testifies to his physical condition
as follows : —

" Immediately after the arrival of Warren Lee Goss
from rebel prisons, T was called to see him professionally,
and found him completely prostrated, suffering from scurvy,
chronic diarrhoea, and cerebrous typhus fever, all of which
were, beyond doubt, the effects of privations and inhuman
treatment while incarcerated in those loathsome prisons ;
as also paralysis of the limbs, from which he lias not as
yet recovered.

"William P. Cross, M. D.

" Boston, December 18, 1866."

" 1 have had an acquaintance for several years with
Mr. Warren Lee Goss, and cheerfully testify that I know
him to be a gentleman of stei'ling integrity and worth.
During the war he has performed good and patriotic ser-
vices for the country.

" Last winter he delivered in this county lectures of
unusual interest, giving details of his experience in the
army, for which he received the thanks of our people.

" S. B. Phinney,
" Editor and Proprietor Barnstable Patriot.

"Baenstable, December 1, 1806."

Colonel Archibald Bogle, Thirty-fifth United States
Colored Troops, sends the publishers the following: —

\PPENDIX. 273

" Melrose, December 27, 1866."
" Messrs. Lee and Shepard,

" Publishers, Boston.
"Gentlemen, — I have read over one hundred of the
proof pages of a book written by Warren Lee Goss, Esq.,
entitled ' The Soldier«6 Story of Captivity.' I have pe-
culiar pleasure in saying I formed an acquaintance with
the author at Andersonville in 1864. I am but too familiar
with many of the scenes which he depicts, and unhesi-
tatingly testify that, so far as I have read, his descriptions
of scenes of prison life are written with rare fidelity to
truth, without exaggeration, and with a candor and straight-
forwardness which I am sure cannot fail to meet the warm
appreciation of those who survived the terrors of that
prison, and claim the highest consideration of every reader.
As such I commend it.

" I am, gentlemen,

" Very respectfully,

"Archibald Bogle."

We, the undersigned, who were companions or acquaint-
ances of Warren Lee Goss at Andersonville and other rebel
prisons, having read the book written by him, entitled " The
Soldier's Story of his Captivity at Andersonville, Belle Isle,
and other Rebel Prisons," certify to the general truthfulness
of the work, and also to many of the particular incidents
narrated. Some of the scenes depicted, which did not come
under our immediate notice, we know to have been of very
frequent occurrence. The picture is in no respect overdrawn ;
on the contrary, language would fail to convey to the reader

274 APPENDIX.

a just appreciation of the terrible agony suffered, and the
appalling scenes constantly witnessed by us.

Arch. Bogle, late Col. 35th U. S. C. T., Melrose, Mass.

Edward F. Campbell, late 2d Lieut. 2d Mass. Heavy
Artil., Cambridge, Mass.

S. J. Evans, late Qr. Master Sfergt. 2d Mass. Heavy
Artil., Providence, R. I.

Arthur H. Smith, late 1st Sergt. 2d Mass. Heavy
Artil., Chicopee, Mass.

John F. McGinnis, late 1st Sergt. 5th U. S. Vol. Inf.,
Boston, Mass.

Pierce Penderghast, late 1st Sergt. 5th U. S. Vol.
Inf., Boston, Mass.

S. T. Meara, late Sergt. 2d Mass. H.Art., Salem, Mass.

William H. Shirley, late Sergt. 1st Mass. Heavy Ar-
til., Salem, Mass.

S. F. Sullivan, late Sergt. 2d Mass. H. Art., Lynn, Mass.

J. W. Damon, late Sergt. 2d Mass. H. A., Boston, Mass.

C. F. Riley, late Sergt. 2d Mass. Heavy Artil., Ran-
dolph, Mass.

GrEORGE T. Whitcomb, late Corp. 2d Mass. Heavy
Artil., North Bridgewater, Mass.

Thos. H. Mann, late Cp.l8th Mass. Vol. Inf., Ionia,Mich.

P. Daley, late of 2d Mass. H.A., Milford, Mass.

P. FiTZSiMMONS, late of 2d Mass. H. A., Milford, Mass.

Mich. Conniffe, late of 2d Mass. H. A., Milford, Mass.

Peter Prew, late of 2d Mass. H. Artil., Milford, Mass.

Wm. Smith, late of 12th Mass. Vol. Inf., Milford, Mass.

Patrick Bradley, late of 2d Mass. II. A., Milford, Mass.

Dexter D. Keith, late of 2d Mass. H. A., Randolph,
Mass.

^

Ill